Iconoclash
by Ketojan
Summary: The Lone Wanderer is about to meet his match, as a new threat arrives from the north. Denis has dealt with many enemies over the last two years but how will he fare against an enemy who is just as driven, strong, resourceful and capable as himself? The young Regulator will soon learn that everyone has their own image of the perfect world and some see heaven, where others see hell.
1. Homecoming

Washington DC, a city of ruin, carnage, vice and despair. The atomic war had turned this once vibrant city of enterprise, the home of the American government, into a radioactive ruin. Democracy was replaced with slavery, trade was replaced with looting and prosperity was replaced with despair as the rules changed overnight and all spoils went to the fittest, the strongest and the most brutal. 

Those who sought to bring change to this hell hole often met a sticky end; they were shot, beaten, enslaved, butchered, devoured or mutated for their efforts. Even so, some still weren't discouraged; there were people like Elder Owyn Lyons, who betrayed his own order, to pursue his goals of bringing change to the wastes. Then there were organisations, like the Regulators and the Railroad, who strove to bring some form of justice to the Capital Wasteland but they were few in number and their successes were only minute, they could never even have hoped to make the slightest bit of difference to the wasteland's injustices.

Wherever there is good, evil is surely to linger and there were those who sought to prosper from the misfortunes of the wastes. People like Eulogy Jones, Alistair Tenpenny and Colin Moriarty, who profited from the suffering of others, who are the cause of most of the death, violence and despair in this place.

Our story begins with such a man, a prodigy in cruelty, a saintly figure for the erratic and those who lack any morals. Thomas Hamilton had a stake in every slice of evil that DC had to offer and within a few years, he found himself to be the right hand of Eulogy Jones. He was a special agent, to both Eulogy and Alistair Tenpenny, who was highly sought after for his competence, resourcefulness and professionalism. Hamilton was not afraid to get his hands dirty, no job was beneath him, nobody was off limits and he feared no one, not even those he served.

Thomas' influence over Tenpenny Tower and Paradise Falls grew and though he made it perfectly clear that he never wanted the responsibility of leadership, both of his employers secretly feared a coup as Thomas had a reputation for being rash and even erratic at times. He showed no signs of disloyalty but, overtime, he found that he was no longer finding fulfilment in his current duties. Everything was so easy and with his resources and influence, he had little to no difficulty carrying out his thankless tasks. Hamilton missed being nobody, exceeding the expectations of his 'superiors' and working with nothing but a rustic knife and a jammed 10mm pistol. 

It has been several years since Thomas left the Capital Wasteland and he feels that it is long due for a check up. What he doesn't realise, is that life in the Capital Wasteland has changed and the world that he left behind is just a memory to those who survived his 'reign of terror…'

* * *

It was noon; the sun's rays beat down on any unfortunate travellers, punishing those who wandered the wastes beneath it. The wind protected the travellers from the heat, blowing a cool breeze, along the ground but scattering dust, ash and sand through the air in the process.

The dirt blew into the atmosphere, creating a brown fog, resembling a sand storm. The area, surrounding Warrington Station had been completely obscured by the dust, which lingered for a few minutes before finally settling down and revealing a lone figure, standing in the eye of the storm. The figure wore a grunt mercenary outfit, with a balaclava and goggles on his face, protecting his eyes and mouth from the dust. He wore a roving trader hat and most noticeably a Pip-Boy 3000 on his left wrist.

He didn't look like he was travelling light, carrying a large rucksack on his back, which looked pretty full. A combat shotgun hung off the side of the bag and a heavily worn out 10mm pistol was tucked into the holster on his thigh, whilst he held a machete in his right hand.

He reached up and removed the goggles, pulling them up and resting them over the bill of his cap before ripping the balaclava off of his face and tucking it into his back pocket. He revealed his heavily scratched face, his cold brown eyes and untrimmed goatee, with wispy hairs growing around his cheeks.

A smile crept across his lips as the dust had completely died down, revealing the looming tower in front of him. He knew it well; he knew it as a place of civilization, a place of shelter…

Home… 

Thomas knelt down, as if he was going to tie his boot laces but instead, he tucked his machete into a holster, which was strapped to his right leg. He slowly stood up and marched over to the front gate, the soles of his boots peeled off as he walked, practically hanging off and flapping, whenever his foot was raised off of the ground and it was no longer pressed against the rest of his boot. He stopped at the intercom, leaning his elbow against the wall and taking a deep breath, composing himself before hitting the little green button, which rested under the speaker.

The speaker made a quick, loud buzzing sound, which made him cringe as it was incredibly vexing. He sighed heavily, in both frustration and exhaustion, as he had been walking for days and the pain in his feet was crippling. After a few seconds, the speaker started to crackle and a gruff voice received him, much to Thomas' surprise.

"Hello?"

"Erm…" Thomas paused, he got the feeling that something wasn't right here, the voice didn't sound human...

"My name is Thomas Hamilton; I live here, in case you didn't get the memo."

There was a pause, though there was no sound, suggesting that he was checking the records in his brain, instead of the ones on the computer or in the filing cabinets. Needless to say, it didn't take long to search the 'archives' as there wasn't much to search through.

"How long have you been living here smooth skin?" The voice asked, confirming Thomas' suspicions that he was in fact dealing with a ghoul. This didn't bother him too much as he didn't have that much of a problem with ghouls, they weren't that different to humans, just as profitable and evil at heart.

"I'd say… the best part of five years." Thomas answered, truthfully, hoping that he'd just check the list and see his name. He was amazed that this ghoul was allowed residence in the tower, normally the 'rotters' were shot on sight, the lucky ones got off with a rant from Gustavo himself and a hail of foul mouthed abuse.

The sound of pages turning made its way through the speakers as the ghoul began to check his records. Either the records were shorter than he remembered or the guy didn't look very hard as the book was quickly shut and the ghoul returned to the speaker.

"No 'Hamilton' here smooth skin, nice try though…" With that, the ghoul cut off, letting his words echo in the immediate area and leaving Tom perplexed at the gate.

"Are you f…" he didn't bother to finish as he hit the button again, getting the annoying buzz once more, somehow it felt fitting this time as it felt like a outburst of his anger towards the ghoul.

"God dammit, I told you, we don't have any Hamiltons here, so get your God damn ugly ass out of he…"

"No, shut up!" Thomas snapped, cutting right through him as he drew his face closer to the speaker.

"Go, get Gustavo, he knows who I am."

There was a pause as the ghoul seemed to have loosened his grip on the button, looking away to verify the facts before looking back to the buzzer.

"There ain't no Gustavo here either…"

"Oh for fu-

Fine, go and find Burke, he **knows** me, I worked for him for two years!"

There was another pause, conveying that the ghoul was confused about something, his finger slipped off of the speaker and he leant in to push it again.

"Burke?"

"Yeah, your boss!" Thomas reminded him, though he sounded even more confused than the ghoul was. Was Burke dead? Was Gustavo?

Neither of them would want a rotter living in the tower, especially **not** on the security team, Gustavo would have sooner become one himself and Burke was so well known that nobody would dare forget his name, least of all the security staff.

"L-Look… Somebody in there will know who I am, get someone to talk to Tenpenny, I'm sure that…"

"Tenpenny?" The ghoul asked, cutting off Thomas' plea for access to his home and making the situation even more uncertain…

"Shit…" The ghoul muttered, taking his finger off of the speaker and seemingly leaving Thomas on hold. Thomas raised his hands in frustration, what was he supposed to do now? He did the only thing he could do; he stood idly, awaiting the imbecile, behind the intercom, to return.

"Hello?" Another ghoul voice asked, instantly getting Thomas' attention and prompting him to turn around and face the speaker.

"Yes?" He replied, wearily, he just wanted to sit down at this point and if he wasn't in agony, he would gladly go elsewhere.

"I looked through the old records, says here that a Thomas Hamilton used to live here before Philips took over, though he was gone by the time that happened."

"Away, not gone…" Thomas corrected him, looking over his shoulder, in case a deathclaw was stood behind him, licking its lips.

Knowing his luck today, that wouldn't surprise him at all…

"Yeah, it never said that you checked out…" The ghoul commented, the sound of the ledger snapping shut leaked through the speaker.

"Well, I'm sorry kid but your 'home' belongs to someone else now. The place was bought out six month ago…"

"It wasn't yours to sell…" Thomas snapped at him, through gritted teeth.

"On the contrary, smooth skin, this whole Tower is ours to sell, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Thomas grumbled, stepping away and shaking his leg, seething at the excruciating pain as his foot touched the ground. He wouldn't make it to Megaton like this or paradise falls…

"Look, I need a place to stay; I'll even pay for entry." Thomas bargained, he wasn't the best barterer but the sound of caps rubbing together is enough to earn anyone's ear.

"How much are we talking?" One of the ghouls asked, Thomas didn't know which one as they all sounded the same to him.

"Two hundred, it's all I have…" This was a lie as he had another hundred in his backpack but he wasn't eager to share that piece of information.

The ghoul sighed; it was better to let him in and make a profit, than refuse him entry and have to put up with his whining all afternoon.

"Fine, you're allowed entry, for one night only." 

The gate opened, as the guard finished speaking, the metal gate slid through the groove in the floor. Despite the fact that the groove had been dug out to allow easy access, there was still a great deal of friction and the gate made one hell of a noise that was comparable to dragging nails along a chalk board.

Thomas stepped back and began to hobble over to the gate, the pain shot through his foot whenever he tried to take a step. He did his best to hide it as the slaver had no desire to show his weaknesses to those around him.

He took two steps inside, standing before a fountain, which had long since dried up, a pity as Thomas would give anything for a shower right about now. He looked to his left and saw the older of the two ghouls approach him, he wore the old Tenpenny Tower security team uniform and had an assault rifle slung over his shoulder.

The ghoul wasn't in the mood for any nonsense and so, he held his hand out, expecting Thomas to cough up the promised bribe. He reached into his pockets and withdrew the coin purse; reluctantly placing it into the security chief's hand.

The ghoul smiled at him, bearing his rotten teeth and gums as he pocketed the bottle caps.

"Welcome to Philip's tower, the second largest ghoul city in the Capital Wasteland.

You're free to use our stores, café and bar, so long as you don't bother any of the residents and you stay away from the executive suites."

Thomas nodded, resisting the urge to sigh as one of those suits was his home and he wasn't about to just let it go without a fight. He didn't even dignify the ghoul with a response as he began to stumble over to the front door of the former hotel, gritting his teeth tighter and tighter as he went. He began to imagine what his feet currently look like, he could swear that his socks were damp but perhaps this was just his imagination playing up.

Thomas stopped at the front door, leaning against it and pushing it open, with his shoulder. His arms didn't have the strength to open the door and so, his whole body weight was required. He stumbled through the lobby, noticing how little had changed since he had left, the décor was exactly the same, the main desk was still used as the central hub of the security staff.

He stopped at the center of the room as many of the tower's residents began to emerge from the shadows, staring at him as they walked past. He didn't like it, feeling like a freak in his own home, like **he** was the one whose face was rotting off.

He straightened his back and composed himself, trying to form a plan in his head but he wasn't able to scheme on an empty stomach, with feet that felt like he had just done a two mile trek, through a field of glass.

The Slaver brought his pip-boy up to his face, to check the time, it was only 1PM and he could quite easily get some food…

_Food…_

A smile crept across his lips, as he thought of eating once more. Even food that had been prepared by a walking disease farm sounded appealing to him, in his famished state.

Making his decision, he shambled on, wandering over to the café hoping to get his first meal in days.


	2. Evaluation

**A/N: Well, what do you know, I'm living and learning. :)**

**I didn't add the author's notes in the last chapter, because I didn't know how to do it (because I'm thick). Anyway, I've finally gotten around to writing the second chapter to this story. I had a great deal of fun with this concept but found myself a little lost and lacking in confidence, I got to work on the second chapter but due to Alevel exams and other things I didn't find time to focus on this second chapter.**

**Fortunately, that's given me a chance to think on this a lot more and I've made a number of improvements to my original plan, so it's not exactly time lost. Thanks to those who read the first chapter, regardless of this.**

**If you do read this story, even if it's just one chapter, please leave reviews and feedback as it really helps me improve my stories and characters and it's nice to know that what I write provokes some thought, even if that thought is 'that is one big pile of shit.'**

**Anyway, I decided to do something a little different to explore Hamilton's character in this chapter and to set the scene for his upcoming rise to power.**

**Hope you all enjoy.**

**Ketojan.**

* * *

"I finally have you…"

Thomas turned around and stood at the center of his tent, one of many large tents in the disaster relief outpost. Before him stood a woman, holding him at gunpoint, her Colt 1911 shook violently as she fought her natural desire to give in to her fear. The woman's hands were shaking, more so by the second as she pointed her Colt 1911 pistol at her target. Her target, Thomas Hamilton, didn't even flinch; he just stared at her, waiting for her to inevitably give in.

"A-After everything you've done? The atrocities you've committed? You c-can't just walk away…" She hissed, taking a deep breath before raising her pistol and wrapping her finger around the trigger. The woman wore a Merc Troublemaker outfit, a long, sleeveless leather coat, with arm warmers, held down with small straps and leather fingerless gloves. Her hair was lifeless; looking like it hadn't seen water in months and her face was plastered in dirt.

Thomas just smiled at her, a dark grin, which showed her that he knew that he was in control here. It was so obvious…

This woman had, had days or even weeks to plan this hit, it was obvious that she was uncomfortable with the thought of killing, because her fingernails were short and jagged and her lips were flaky, from where she had been biting them. Even with the dirt, plastered to her face, she was unable to hide the fact that she was pale and ready to throw up with nerves. She wasn't Hamilton; she couldn't just kill a man, especially after looking him in the eye.

"I think that you should put that down…" He whispered, his throat was dry and anything that was louder than a whisper would come out as a horse groan. The Slaver looked to his right before looking back at her again. Her whole arm began to shake and the gun rattled, revealing that it was cheap and falling apart. She was no longer looking down the sights but at her own hands…

Though shalt not kill…

She cursed her own commandments for being so vague, 'though shalt not kill?' What if the person you're killing is a monster, quite literally? Thomas Hamilton was not human, he may wear clothes, he may speak and drink but there is nothing human inside that man. You could tell by looking in his eyes…

The Slaver took his first step towards her, prompting her whole body language to change as she abandoned any pretence of confidence. She backed away and began to look around, seeing the man's belongings, scattered along the floor. There were books that he'll never finish, a bedroll that will be stained with his blood and some food and water, which will never be consumed as she would never take from a man that she had just murdered.

"S-Stay back!" She snapped, pulling the slider back and pointing it at her target as he took another step closer towards her. From the sound of her voice, she was of Russian descent or perhaps east European, it was irrelevant, however.

"You aren't going to kill me…"

"Aren't I?" She asked, stepping forward and placing her hand under the pistol, to support her aim.

"No, you're not… You don't have the stomach for it."

There was a long pause as she took that in, he was right of course, it couldn't be more obvious that she was terrified at the thought of pulling that trigger, she simply wanted to throw her gun away and leave but she couldn't, she knew that.

"You don't know what I'm capable of!" The Woman informed him, though her trembling voice made her look even weaker.

Thomas ignored her and took another step closer, then another and another, until they were face to face, practically sharing the same breath as he gazed into her eyes. The Slaver had the power to turn her veins to ice, freezing her on the spot in a state of fear induced paralysis, she rested muzzle of her pistol under his chin, breathing heavily into his face.

After a few moments of staring her down, Thomas gently wrapped his hand around the barrel and slowly took the gun away from her. The woman's stomach sank and her hands trembled in the air, her fingers were pale and purple at the tips, from where the circulation had been cut off, due to her tight grip.

What had she done?

To her surprise, Hamilton pointed the gun away from her, at the right hand corner of his tent, as he examined it. The weapon was worn, to say the least, as most of the barrel was rustic and the grip had been worn away from abuse and overuse. One would normally assume that the gun had just been found, presumably in a trash compactor but Thomas knew better, he noticed how she was still flinching, like she wanted to lunge at him and take it back. The agitation in her facial expression showed that she wasn't doing this out of a want to kill him or even to preserve herself but, because she wanted her gun back.

"This gun…" He began, slowly pacing around the room and stepping closer to the light of an old oil lamp that was running on fumes. "It… Means something doesn't it?"

The woman looked at him; her defeated eyes glanced away, unable to look at him as she accepted that she didn't have the strength to kill him.

"Y-Yes… It has been in my family, since before the war…"

Thomas nodded; somewhat impressed with its age as he continued to study it, he noticed that a bit had been chipped off of the hammer. The weapon was most likely hidden in a draw somewhere, never to be used on a living person, perhaps it was a service weapon, an old relic, in a new age. It didn't matter; he turned back to the woman and let the pistol hang by his side, the woman found herself staring at it, he eyes shimmered as the weapon became the center of the room, all eyes were on it.

"H-How did you do it?" She asked, earning herself a confused look from the slaver as he raised his head and his eyebrow.

"K-Killing, I mean… How do you just…?"

"I'd refer you to your user's manual…" Thomas smirked, turning around and walking over to a desk, which he leant on, pinning the gun against it.

"Point the muzzle at the enemy and shoot…" He chuckled to himself, pouring himself some whiskey, in a glass.

"I meant from an ethical perspective…" The woman interrupted him, wearily.

"Even you must have had ethics once."

The Slaver just laughed at this, swirling the drink in his glass before knocking it to the back of his throat. He lowered the glass and looked at it, intently as if there was something inside it, which gave him an answer.

"Ethics…" He chuckled, throwing the glass to one side and letting it slide along the table as he stood up again and he dragged his gun off of the table and let it hang by his side.

"Take a look outside, stomp around, until you find a skull to crush, under your boots and gaze longingly into its eyes, because you're looking at the only ethical people left in this world. The rest of us? We moved on, transcended our weaknesses and evolved into a new species of survivors. Evolution didn't end when we grew opposable thumbs, that was only the beginning…"

"S-So… You think that… You think that everyone will be like you one day?" The woman asked, confused by what the slaver was talking about.

Thomas shrugged as he took another step closer, it didn't bother her this time as he hadn't made any threat towards her. If he was going to kill her, he would have done it by now, he couldn't enslave her, because he lacked the facilities to do so, she was still in danger but there was no immediate sign of what danger she was in as Hamilton was capable of a lot of things.

"It would be stupid of me to think that everybody will be like me one day but the strongest people in this world? Asher, Tenpenny, Eulogy Jones… They all have something in common, right?" Thomas took note of the weight of the pistol, it wasn't fully loaded. The Slaver would be surprised if the clip was half full.

"They… Are all wicked…" She answered, glancing away and looking back at him, with a look of hatred.

"Th-They kill, enslave…" Her list was cut off as Thomas nodded in response, showing that he was satisfied with her answer. The oil lamp began to flicker as the fuel inside it was on its last legs and the light inside was ready to go out at any minute.

"Like you…" She whispered, looking over to the lamp as Thomas flickered like the flame, vanishing into the darkness and reappearing as the flame struggled to illuminate him. The Slaver nodded, keeping a cold, hard stare on the woman. She wasn't a young woman, must have been in her thirties, she looked tired and beaten and this wasn't just from her recent journey. Her life had been long and hard, leading up to this moment and yet she faltered.

"Why did you come here?" Thomas found himself asking, he knew that the answer was to kill him but there were plenty of reasons that he should die and he was wondering which one had summoned her.

"I…" The woman paused, hanging her head and reflecting on her journey, the people she had met, what she had seen and done as she travelled across Maryland, all building up to this moment.

"I wanted to stop you, from hurting anyone else." She answered, truthfully, getting a nod in return.

"Who did I hurt before?"

The woman looked up him, the light from the lamp reflected in her eyes as they shimmered from the tears, which built up behind them and bled their way through, falling down her eyelids and cascading down her face.

"M-My sister…" She swallowed and looked away, straightening her back, to keep herself strong.

"You and your people killed her…" She gave a faint laugh, though it wasn't from amusement, rather nerves of the pain resurfacing.

"We tried to escape, from Paradise Falls. Me and my husband made it through the fence but… They saw her, trying to escape… She told us to run and went back, she had her hands in the air and your men hit her with a baseball bat!" She sniffed and dragged her sleeve across her face, wiping the snot and tears away, clearing the way for more. Thomas folded his arms and leant back, listening to the story intently and absorbing every detail.

"They beat on her and beat on her, until she was near dead! She was on the floor and they carried on, just hitting her and hitting her, she surrendered and you had her beaten!"

Thomas just nodded, he remembered the incident. Truth be told, it didn't faze him, not even at the time but hearing it from her perspective gave him something to think about.

"Th-Then you came out… In your black suit, like…" She choked on her own words, gagging slightly as she met his eyes.

"Like death…

You stood over her, just… staring at her as she lay there, on her back wheezing and choking as she lay broken and bruised and…"

"She said; 'fuck you." Thomas finished, solemnly, hanging his head before nodding. Though he didn't seem very sympathetic.

"Then I shot her, in the head…"

The woman looked away, as if he was breaking the news to her. She began to sob, hugging herself with one arm and supporting her head with the other. She didn't expect him to remember it, the incident but he knew it better than she did. Her sister had made the ultimate sacrifice, so that she, her husband and her son, who was yet to be born, could escape and she had thrown that gift away, by tracking down and holding the man who killed her at gunpoint. She no longer cared about him dying, she just wanted to go home, to see her son and husband and live what life she was given.

"What was her name?" Thomas asked, looking down on the gun and getting the woman's attention once more as she swallowed her tears and cleared her throat.

"Elena… M-My sister was Elena…"

Thomas' eyes glanced up at her, she met them and saw that they were still the same, no tears were inside them, no sign of regret or sympathy or empathy.

Thomas Hamilton was not human…

"And you are?"

"Marcia…" She whispered, weakly, bringing her other arm down and wrapping it around her waist.

"You said that you were a mother?"

"Y-Yes…"

"What's your son's name?"

She looked up, somewhat insulted by his curiosity; he didn't care, did he? He must do, on some level, because he wouldn't ask, if he didn't.

"Mathew…" She whispered before smiling, finding herself laughing a bit.

"The greatest gift that God has ever given me."

Thomas smiled in response, he wasn't religious but he appreciated the sentiment, even he wasn't especially sentimental himself.

"What about your husba…?"

"What's with the questions!?" She finally snapped at him, wiping the smile from his face.

Thomas gave her a look of disdain as if he was sore from the fact that she refused the play along, he lowered his gun, making sure that he was pointing it at her.

"I'm trying to figure out, whether or not I should kill you…"

Marcia's eyes widened at this, her mouth was agape and she instantly glanced at the gun's barrel as if she was expecting him to fire. She shouldn't be here, she made a mistake, she could just go home and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

Thomas narrowed his eyes as he focussed on Marcia; everything around her became blurred or dark. "You see, you're just one woman. A stupid woman, who thought that she could kill me, when she doesn't even have the guts to pull the trigger on her gun, even when it's a life or death situation."

This caused the woman to look away, bringing her arms up and folding them as she tried to suppress any indignant outbursts that stemmed from being called 'a stupid woman.'

"You came here to kill me but you can't… I have your gun now and the choice of who lives and dies falls to me. Now the fact still stands; you did come here to kill me but, as I said, you're just a stupid woman, who will most likely run home to her boy and her husband and have a good cry, the second that you walk out that door." He gestured to the tent flap with his gun but he hadn't given her permission to leave yet.

"I could shoot you, right here and now, with your own gun." He paused, to raise his gun, pointing it at her head and holding her forehead in his sights, the perfect spot, where she would just see the muzzle flash before the bullet tunnelled inside her skull, through her brain and out of the back of her head.

"I've done it before, more times than I can count, it doesn't get any harder." The Slaver informed her, shrugging to his left a little, whilst twirling his wrist, momentarily losing his target before locking back onto it. "Or… I can let you go, I would say that I would be 'taking my chances' but there's no way in hell that you'll get this chance again."

Marcia gasped and stepped forward as she felt herself hollow out, she looked to the gun as if it as the one that made the decision.

"Th-Then let me go!" She stammered, frozen on the spot.

"I-I don't have to die here… You can keep my gun and I'll go home, nobody has to know!" Marcia begged, her gut ached, longing for the embrace of her son and husband, her head felt hollow as her brain accepted the inevitability that she wasn't going to feel them in her arms again.

"True…" Thomas noted, though he didn't seem to change his behaviour.

He continued to point the gun at her head, wrapping his middle, ring and pinkie around the grip and digging his fingers into it as his index finger curled around the trigger. Marcia closed her eyes, silently praying to herself as a man, who was more savage and amoral than Mephistopheles himself, decided her fate. Despite being told it many times, she wasn't stupid, she knew who Hamilton was, she knew that he was capable of many things and none of those things were mercy.

Thomas, making his decision, jerked his index finger back and pulled the trigger. Marcia heard the gun open and her eyes shot open, to see the muzzle flash, it was spontaneous and bright and it momentarily blinded her before the bullet hit its target.

* * *

The light retracted as the doctor switched off his flashlight, allowing Thomas to see again. The Doctor threw the examination torch onto a table, with several operating tools.

"I told you, I'm fine." Thomas protested, taking a tighter grip of his chair as he grew more and more frustrated at this zombie's need to coddle him. He began to regret giving him the money for the examination now…

"Well, you've been on the road for several months now Smooth Skin. You can never be too careful…" The Doctor replied, stepping away from him and letting him out of the chair.

"It's just your foot blisters, they'll swell up and pop in a few days, once they do don't pick the skin off of 'em or you won't have anything to protect the sore." The Doctor insisted, causing Thomas to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, I know, I'm not fucking stupid…" The Slaver grumbled as he got out of the chair, hobbling over to retrieve his gear. He bent down and gathered his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and looking back to the Doctor.

"So, what happened to the people who used to live here? Were they exiled or slaughtered?" He asked, though he didn't seem to care as they weren't any less putrid than the ghouls, in his eyes.

"You don't know?" The Doctor asked, adjusting his horn rimmed glasses, which were tied to his head, with a piece of elastic, due to the absence of his ears.

"Roy Philips had them all executed, stripped them of everything and threw 'em in the basement."

Thomas nodded, not remotely surprised, it was an inevitability and the only other outcome was for the ghouls to be shot, stripped and dumped in the basement. The Slaver didn't really miss any of the people as they were so devoid of empathy or even humanity, that most of their 'good qualities' were things that didn't require them to be alive, Tenpenny's pay checks, Burke's contracts, Primrose's food and Lancaster's body. He missed those things but he didn't miss the cretins, who provided them.

"So, there's nobody left?" Thomas asked, again, more curious than worried as he'd rather have them all dead, than have a few survivors, who he loathed.

"As far as I'm aware, no." The Doctor began looking to him sympathetically.

"Did you… Know any of them?"

Thomas shook his head, showing that he cared little for their loss; he might have done it himself, one day.

"Not really but Roy Philip's little purge has made me homeless…" The Slaver grumbled, glancing away as his hand shook, he resisted the urge to draw his gun and start shooting, to take it back.

"I er… I see… Have you tried to appeal for it?" The Doctor suggested, removing his rubber gloves and washing his hands.

"Council's different than it used to be, you might have a shot…"

"To what? Beg like a little bitch to move back into my own home?" Thomas grumbled, hobbling over to the doorway and taking hold of the doorframe to relieve the pressure on his feet.

"I'm trying to help you, Smoothskin…" The Doctor reminded him, wearily as he didn't know why anymore, due to his attitude.

"It's worth a try, just… Ask for a meeting and explain what happened, they might make an exception for you and let you move back in…"

"I thought that it was someone else's home…" Thomas pointed out, narrowing his eyes as he looked back in disgust at the Doctor, his intense brown eye was fixed on the ghoul as he bumbled about, trying to find an answer that would appease him.

Unfortunately for the Doctor, his efforts would appear to be fruitless as there were few words in the world that would appease Hamilton's anger, least of all the suggestion of sitting before a group of squatters and begging for the keys to his home. Though it was tempting for the Slaver to clean house and take the former hotel room back, he did admit that without tenants, this place would be incredibly difficult to maintain. As he leant against the door, he dwelled on it a little; the machine in his head was kicking into gear as he began to form a plan…

Perhaps it would be better to appeal, for now at least. Get his home back and use this place as a base, until he could hook up with his old crew at paradise falls. Then they could come back together, him, Eulogy, Forty, Flak and Ymir could quite easily crush the pathetic excuse of a security team that these ghouls have desperately thrown together.

Then they could enslave the rest and make their first job mopping up the splattered brains of the fuckwits, who failed to protect their freedom. Though ghouls weren't the best slaves, few people would want to fuck one, so you can't use them as whores, their brittle bones make them inadequate labourers and they look hideous and smell like rotting flesh, so you wouldn't want one as a servant or a butler, going anywhere near your food.

Still, they'll have to do until they can get a hold of some good livestock…

"Well, that's why it'll be difficult… But it's worth a shot, the worst that they can do is say 'no." The Doctor shrugged, now staring at Thomas through his stylish, horn-rimmed glasses, he seemed hesitant as he noticed that Thomas was edging to leave.

"Yeah and send me out to die in that shit hole of a Wasteland…" Tom grumbled, knowing how it was. It was the same elitism here that Tenpenny had established, the management had been changed but it was still the same bullshit, only he was in the firing line this time.

Well fuck them, they had their chance, they had their chance to justify their existence, to prove that they were better, that they weren't worthy of his scorn and contempt. They are exactly the same as the 'bigots' who came before them and considering that they saw fit as to exterminate the lot of those 'bigots' for their ignorance, Thomas felt inclined to do the same.

Either way, the followers of Roy Philips wouldn't enjoy this life of luxury for long, whether they were willing to give him his house back or not and this tower would soon be his.

Along with the rest of Washington DC…


	3. Recovery

**A/N: Well, here's my third chapter, which is the first chapter to be completed within a week of the first one being completed.**

**This chapter introduces our second protagonist or our main protagonist or our antagonist, depending how you see Thomas Hamilton. :)**

**Either way, Denis, my Fallout 3 character, makes his first appearance in this chapter and it won't be his last.**

**Hope this chapter goes down well, please leave reviews as I like to know what my readers think and don't be afraid to PM me, if you have any questions or anything. Thanks for reading Iconoclash so far and I hope that I can keep you interested enough to continue to read on. :)**

* * *

_I am Alpha…_

_"Run!"_

_And Omega…_

_"RUN!"_

_The beginning and the end…_

_"I can't leave him in there!"_

_I shall give unto him…_

_"Move, get in the sewer grid!"_

_Who is a thirst for the fountains of the waters of life…_

_"Daniel, make a break for it, I'll cover you!"_

_Freely…_

_"NO!"_

Denis' eyes slowly opened as they were disturbed by the light, shining through the cracks of the ceiling of his modest shack and hitting his eyelids. A bright green blob obscured his dreams, forcing him to open his eyes and look into the burning light, which shone through the tiny holes in the ceiling and walls…

The Regulator removed his arm, from his forehead, sliding it across as he felt the pins and needles rush through his forearm and his fingers as they grazed across the scar on his hairline. Nadine had promised him that his lobotomy scars will have gone after a week and two years later, they were still there, clear as day.

To be honest, he sort of liked them, they made for interesting conversation, some people were more afraid of him, because of them and more than a few women had made a pass at him since Tobar had inflicted said scars on him. That was about the only thing that Denis had to thank him for, he still didn't regret redecorating the Dutchess, his ragtime ferry, with the contents of the ferryman's skull.

To be fair, he drew on Denis first but it's not like that ever concerned the Regulator, it only seemed right that the bastard got his head blown off at the end of all that, considering that he'd stolen more brain matter than has ever been recorded inside a living creature's head before. Denis lost little to no sleep after adding Tobar's own brains to his little collection before taking his own back chunk of grey matter back and getting the hell out of there.

It was then that he smiled and slowly rolled his eyes over to a shelf, on the far side of his shack, where he kept most of his mementos. There sat a jar, with a bit of brain inside, that he just couldn't bring himself to throw away, beside a model space ship, like off of Captain Cosmos but this one was incredibly fancy and looked incredibly realistic and elegant, like it could have actually have existed. Most of the paint had been knocked off as was the left 'thruster' but Denis didn't care, it still served as a fine ornament and a reminder of his time on the Zeta and later, with Commander Graham.

He'd lost interest in his trinkets as he slowly went back to 'resting' his eyes, exhaling heavily, through his nose. He'd been 'on the sick' for two days now and he'd been told to stay out of action for a week, something that he had **no** intentions of doing. He loved Moira and the people of Megaton but he truly didn't want to listen to them, when they told him to take it easy and recover from his last adventure.

Last time Denis went out, he was jumped by a group of raiders and eventually shot, his third serious gunshot wound. Well… 'serious' in Doc Church's opinion. As far as Denis was concerned, it wasn't anything to worry about. It went clean through; he'd just forgotten to take antibiotics and got the wound infected…

Well, that was his story, truth was, he'd run out months ago and decided to do without. He didn't used to travel with them but back then he had at least one or two Stimpaks on him, whereas now he relied on food and good old fashioned first aid. It was cheaper and it allowed him to practice his skills in medicine, keep them well tuned and at the ready, in case anyone needed them.

In truth, it wasn't just about that, Denis often liked challenge; he **liked** making things as difficult as possible for himself. Truth was that recently he'd been finding himself at a loss, with the Enclave gone, Denis turned his efforts to the Mutants of DC, to keep himself preoccupied, though that well only lasted about a year before it dried up, thanks to the great muttie cull, which pushed them out of the city.

They still exist, in fact they're growing in number, around the Vault 87 area and there's debate as to whether or not driving them out of the cities was a good idea after all as now they stalk the rural areas of DC, plaguing farmers, killing livestock… and those who tend it.

The sad reality is; those farmers are out for themselves and nobody, not even Elder Lyons would donate resources to helping them. If anyone was to help them, it would be out of the kindness of their own heart…

Denis **would** help them but they pretty much threw his suggestion of moving closer to the city, right back in his face.

"My family have lived in this shack for generations! We'll die here!" Was quite often the consensus, a commendable attitude but the same people came back, six months later, whining that their family died in the shack that they swore to protect. Denis was a kind man, a patient man but… he couldn't help fools, who wouldn't help themselves…

Recently, Denis had been finding himself at a loss, a stray mutant or Raider used to be called 'Thursday' but now? Now it's called Christmas…

Things were slow enough as it was, without him being laid up in bed all day. He wanted to get back out there, he wanted to be fighting raiders in the dirt, be saving little girls from trees and help cats cross the road…

Or the other way around…

Anything was better than baking in this dump, the second that he was longing for Tobar's surgery; he **knew** that he was itching for some action, in any shape or form. He'd slept enough; he just needed stimulation, not excitement, not adventure. Just something to stop his brain from imploding from boredom, something to stop his stomach from eating itself…

It was then that he heard it, two knocks and the sweet melody of change…

The Regulator's broad smile almost reached up to his arm, which was now lay across his face…

"It's open!"

No reply…

Harden…

Denis sighed and rolled off of his couch, his large black boots hit the floor, with a clang as they came down hard on the metallic surface. He slowly rose to his feet and caught his reflection in the mirror, on the other side of the room…

_God, I need a shave…_

He shook his head and ran his pip-boy 3000's glove through his hair as he approached the door, slamming his hand on the handle and opening it, revealing the thirteen year old, African American lad, who was stood on his doorstep, looking quite sheepish.

"Harden, what brings you by this morning?" He asked, enthusiastically, like he tried to with everyone he spoke to. Though quite often people thought that he was trying to patronise them or belittle their intelligence.

The Boy's eyes darted from Denis, to Lucy West's shack before making their way back, within in the inch of a second. Tell tale sign that something was wrong…

"Aren't you supposed to be on patrol this morning?"

"I… I am…" Harden muttered, nervously, looking around again, for eavesdroppers.

"L-Look… If I tell you somethin'… Promise not to tell the Sheriff?"

Denis sighed, heavily, running his other glove down his face, he couldn't do that and they both knew it as no one could keep secrets from the sheriff… He wasn't the smartest guy on the planet, so it's not like they feared his wrath, should he find out but keeping the Sheriff out of the loop? That was generally a **bad** idea, it put a lot of lives at stake…

"I can't do that…" The Regulator replied, truthfully as he looked around, seeming like he was desperate to say 'yes,' just to get this big secret out of him. Whatever it was, it seemed like Denis had gotten that bit of stimulation that he wanted…

Harden looked a little crushed, placing one arm over the other, clutching it and slowly looking around as if he didn't know what else to do, if Denis couldn't help him, then nobody could…

He might wear his dad's badge and carry his pistol, he might speak like an adult, deepening his voice to have some authority but everyone, even Harden knew that he was still just a kid, who made mistakes and felt incredibly guilty, like anyone else.

Denis knew this and found himself caving, feeling like he was the kid's mother or a soft father, which he may as well be… considering…

"Alright, I'll tell you what… Tell me and I'll make it as painless as I possibly can, okay? I can help you; you don't need to be afraid…" He whispered, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder and looking him square in the eyes. Harden couldn't help but frown, he loathed Denis, deep down, he loathed him. If it weren't for him, that psycho, Burke, wouldn't have shot up the Saloon…

His dad shouldn't have died that day, it should've been Denis… it was **his** fault. Yet here he is, getting the title of 'hero' and armies of morons throwing praise and precious supplies at his feet. Denis wasn't a hero or at least not **his** hero; he was a damn plague, who destroyed **everything** he touched. Tenpenny tower, a hundred foot tall graveyard and a permanent reminder of just what happens when Denis implements his 'good ideas.' He doesn't wear a badge or the hat, yet he seems to treat himself as the sheriff of the wasteland, his word, despite the fact that it was far from infallible was the law and not one damn person would dare say otherwise…

The worst part was? He was so… 'nice' about it… so perfect and caring and attentive… was he even a human being? To say that Denis had helped Harden out of a fare share of scrapes would be a disservice to a man who had been his lifeline for those first few months, after everything settled down. He checked in on him, made sure that he had a roof over his head, made sure that someone else could keep law and order and yet keep Harden's rightful position as deputy and one day as sheriff in the Simms family's hands. It was aggravating, infuriating to know that **this** was the man who had taken his father away from him, only he and the others that he failed could see what he really was…

Of course, most of the people he had failed were dead or eating out of his hand…

None of them would dare say otherwise…

He swallowed his anger, remembering the events that had transpired that morning, in truth; Harden couldn't even look Denis in the eye, without finding this burning rage, which made him want to punch the prick in the jaw, repeatedly, just like Mr… Sherriff Jericho showed him.

Make him pick up his own teeth…

He slowly smothered this feeling, like a crying infant in a warzone, it would only make things worse and though he wanted this feeling, to give him strength and courage, he wanted to sort this out more. He quickly glanced up to Denis and looked him in the face, seeing for the first time how… old he looked…

Harden finally managed to regain his composure before beginning his story, hoping that the Regulator would understand. He **had** to understand…

* * *

Denis and Harden quietly slipped out through the front gate, hoping to avoid drawing attention, so that nobody would follow them and see what Harden had done, outside the walls. Nobody noticed as they slipped out, treading across the courtyard, or at least that's what folks called it, and heading out into the wastes.

A cool, autumn breeze hit the two of them, blowing their coats about, along with their hair and anything else light enough to be swept up by it. It was quite a nice breeze, making their body temperatures just right and giving them some calm before the inevitable shit-storm.

The Regulator looked back, over his shoulder and noticed that Harden was distracted; his recent mistake plagued his mind, invading it like meningitis and debilitating his other senses. He raised his brow and stopped as the young boy caught up; eventually snapping out of it as he saw that Denis had stopped for him.

He gave his elder a troubled look before finally nodding and gesturing for him to move on, prompting him to do so. Denis walked along in his black boots, treading the rocks into the ground or kicking them aside as he went. Denis, like always, was wearing his regulator duster, an outfit that he had worn every day for the best part of three years, ever since he was given it. He wasn't really one for causes or factions, he never needed an excuse to do things or to avoid them but the Regulators didn't ask anything of him, they just expected him to keep doing what he'd always done, help people and destroy evil.

At the time of receiving it, the coat didn't mean anything to him; it was just an outfit that he liked, due to its style, its warmth and its practicality. But recently, in truth, he found it to be a god send as it allowed him to blend in, with the other regulators, allowing him to just be another brick in the wall and harder to identify. It was for this reason that he avoided wearing his armoured vault 101 jumpsuit these days and he avoided his old Raider Blastmaster outfit as he found that it made people nervous and, more often than not, trigger happy.

He carried a Chinese assault rifle, not really knowing what to expect, close range weapon like a shotgun might not reach a sniper from too far away and a hunting rifle might seem a bit excessive if the enemy was only a few feet away. Denis glanced down to his rifle and noticed that it had more than a few scuff marks on it, he remembered a time when he knew the story of every weapon he had; now he'd be lucky if he could remember half of their origins, considering how quickly they come and go. From the looks of this one, it might have been a raiders or something as it looked worn and not very well maintained.

Denis eventually pried his eyes away from his weapon, the thought of such things becoming a triviality caused him to sigh and shake his head. He often tried to break away from things and remember who he used to be before, the different stages of his life, leading up to who he was now. The truth was; Denis wasn't exactly perfect, he was a good shot and was fortunate enough to possess his parent's brains, the rest was a mix of trial and error and some luck…

A lot of luck…

He looked straight ahead, seeing if he could see the body as Harden said that he had shot the guy here… Though Denis couldn't see any sign of him…

"You said that you shot him here?" The Regulator finally asked, hoping to confirm it.

The kid nodded, swallowing hard to stop himself from choking on his own nerves.

"Y-Yeah… They fell, behind that rock over there…" He nodded to the suspected rock, with his head as they approached it, Denis looked around and saw that they were a stone's throw away from the Megaton wall, which was a relief as they'd need to be, to save this guy.

If there was anything left to save…

The two law men slowly stepped around the rock, guns at the ready but not raised as they didn't expect the man to be conscious. To no one's surprise, he wasn't…

Before them lay a man, in metal armour, complete with a metal helmet, which used to be an enclave eyebot, which had been hollowed out and recycled. Denis had seen these helmets before, even back when the enclave were a threat, now those eyebots are rare due to the fact that people shoot them on sight. Some people still hold a grudge to the fascist organisation for what they did but most people just see them as floating scrap metal, either way, they've been dropping like flies over the last two years and there aren't any new ones in circulation…

Denis' eyes slowly scanned the helmet, the person's eyes were shut, which meant that they were possibly alive but of course, they could just be dead, with their eyes shut. His eyes slowly slid down the man's body, catching the pauldrons, which had a variety of spikes jutting out of them. He continued to scan them, his eyes lingering on the chest as something came to his attention…

Could it be…?

He slowly approached and knelt down beside the fallen survivor, reaching over for their helmet as Harden readied his rifle, swallowing as he moved about on his feet, feeling them going numb, due to fear. The Regulator placed his hand, firmly, on the Caucasian traveller's head and slowly pulled the helmet off revealing her face as her head fell, limply, to the side and rolled over.

It was quite obvious that she wasn't a raider, she was dirty but… not **that** dirty and she honestly didn't look like the violent type. She had long brown, scruffy hair, a slender and slightly pointy nose and a rather bruised face, most likely due to her helmet.

Simms' face suddenly changed as he saw who he had shot, this girl wasn't a raider, she didn't even look dangerous…

"You said that she drew on you?" Denis asked, slowly looking the body over. He saw the 'wound,' a large dent in the armour, from where the bullet had hit. From the looks of it, it had winded her and knocked her on her back, he wasn't sure what had knocked her out like this…

"Y-Yeah… I ain't lied, I told her to put her hands up and she reached for a gun… She dropped it, over there!" The boy babbled, pointing to a 9mm pistol, which looked like it had been through a trash compactor.

"It's alright, I'm not… trying to accuse you of anything, I'm just trying to figure out what happened…" Denis whispered, reaching over for the gun…

_Jammed…_ He thought, he knew, due to the fact that the slider was stuck, the bullet had gotten wedged in the chamber. He'd seen this happen a few times; the occasional initiate or newbie scavenger would jam their gun and then not know what to do with it. Question was, was this gun jammed before she encountered Harden? Was this a bluff? Or did she intend to shoot him and jammed it then?

"Did she fire?" He asked, pulling the slider back and manually ejecting the spent casing, snapping it back into place as he looked up to Harden, who was going pale, he didn't know what he had done yet and it was the not knowing that was killing him.

"No… I didn't give her the chance…"

"Did she say anything?"

"Yeah… But it was muffled…" Harden admitted or perhaps let slip, he then widened his eyes and added…

"But she reached for her gun, like two seconds after… I had to…"

"I know…" Denis replied, cutting him off as he went back to the girl, it was obvious by her facial structure that she was an adolescent. 16 to… 20 at the oldest…

Younger than he was, when he was introduced to all of this but the sad reality was that she wasn't anything special; Harden was an example of just how true that jarring fact was. There was no such thing as children anymore, there were only survivors. Better to have them living like this than being some sick hebephile's sex slave or something, let them live a life that they choose, that they can build for themselves.

The sad reality was; not many people got such a chance in this world. Those who could read, who had the resources or the influence could achieve anything. People like Sonora, Lucas Simms, Moriarty, Burke, Tenpenny… They were the true show runners of this world and people like this girl were the ones who suffered because of it.

As Denis thought about this, he reached his hand over to her mouth and nose, hovering his fingers over them for a brief moment before whipping them away.

"She's alive… But her breathing's weak… I need help getting her armour off." Denis immediately snatched at the metal armour and began to pull the tubes out, making no attempt to be delicate with it, due to his urgency. He pulled the torso open, revealing the red bruise on her abdomen; from where Harden's bullet had gut punched her.

"Will she be okay?" Harden asked, looking more than a little concerned at this point as his eyes darted around, he'd completely forgotten that he was on watch, which he wasn't really as Denis wouldn't put that pressure on him during times of immense stress, like this.

"Looks like her armour saved her life, but she's winded… Might've cracked or even broken a rib…" Denis commented, glancing up to her face as he ran his finger over the wound, being as delicate as he could.

"I need to get her back to Megaton…"

"But, if Mr Jericho finds out…"

"Let me talk to Jericho, I can handle him, you just cover me, whilst I carry her back."

Harden froze on the spot for a moment, looking the girl in the face as he felt his stomach and chest hollow out, he wasn't afraid of being yelled at, sweared at or even hit, though he knew that Jericho wouldn't…

He feared losing his gun and badge, both of which meant the world to him…

"Okay." He finally said, determination suppressed any doubt and/or fear as he gripped his rifle and slowly lifted the barrel up.

"You ready?"

Denis nodded as he wrapped his arm around the girl's back and slowly lifted her up, her head and arms hung over his as she lay, limp, in his arms. She was heavy, incredibly heavy and though Denis wasn't exactly the strongest guy in the world, he knew that this was most likely down to the weight of her armour as he knew that he could probably lift a skinny teenager unaided on any other day of the week.

The Regulator couldn't help but wonder where she'd gotten it from, metal armour wasn't exactly power armour but most wastelanders wore clothing or cheap armour made out of scrap metal, kitchen utensils and a bunch of other shit that you'd find in a junk yard but this armour set looked well made. Maybe she'd killed someone for it or inherited it from a friend or family member? Maybe she was from a group or from a city?

He sighed before nodding to the boy, gesturing to the city wall as he did so.

"Yeah, I'm ready…" He wheezed, already finding it difficult to hide the fact that he felt like he was carrying an iron bull here. He was pretty sure that all of the weight was in the armour and pulling the girl out of it and then leaving it behind was becoming more and more of a temptation. However, he knew that, if she was straight and everything, that 'sorry but we shot you, stripped you of your gear and left it all to rot in the wasteland,' might not go down so well.

He slowly hovered his foot over the ground ahead of him, letting it fall back to the floor as he followed Harden from behind, giving him a slight nod and a smile, to assure him that it would be okay and that he could set off, when he wanted to…

Or ASAP, preferably, before Denis' arms snapped in two…

The Deputy nodded before turning back to the wall, leading on as Denis followed behind, his eyes were fixed on the girl, checking on her condition. In truth, he was worried about moving her but he didn't have much choice… From the looks of things, the damage done to her was little more than wind and a bit of shock, worst case scenario would be that she had a cracked rib, which he could easily have patched up. A few days bed rest and they can send her back on her way, like none of this had ever happened, with a few supplies in an apology basket.

Well… As long as she was straight, of course…

* * *

The front door to Denis' house clicked and it opened with a creak and a groan as the Regulator's shadow was cast across the floor. He stepped inside, glancing up at the ceiling and seeing the orange glow above, like another radioactive bomb had gone off above the city. He slowly pushed his way through the particles of dust, thousands of little fireflies, which floated aimlessly through the air, that were just taken for granted, like a lot of things these days.

Denis immediately went over to his couch and fell onto it, groaning as his aching joints finally relaxed after a stressful day of lifting that girl around, in her metal armour. His arms currently felt like he couldn't lift them anymore, his shoulders were also aching like crazy from the sheer overhaul of his muscles. The Regulator just threw his head back and sighed, heavily, closing his eyes as his face looked up to the ceiling, resting his eyes, arms, legs and brain for a few precious moments and enjoying the comfort of his couch.

He was glad that he'd picked the pre war theme for his abode, Moira teased him at the time, asking if he was being nostalgic but he wasn't egotistical enough to want the love pad theme or desperate enough for the vault theme or fucked up enough to want the raider's theme. Science theme sort of interested him; however, he wanted his home to be his **home**. His fortress of solitude, a castle, where he could escape science and everything else that caused his head and joints to ache…

This couch was originally upstairs but he had it moved down stairs, so that he could sit on it and enjoy a drink at the end of the day…

_Speaking of which…_

Denis reached over and grabbed a bottle of scotch and the glass, which stood, like a loyal companion, beside it. He poured the drink before taking the glass and sitting back in his chair, resting his right ankle on his left knee and smiling as he listened to the humming and bubbling of the many machines and pieces of equipment, which he kept lying around.

The girl would be okay… As Denis had predicted, the damage was mainly surface damage, it was possible that she had a cracked rib but Doc Church wouldn't know that until she woke up. He wasn't going to waste time, effort and resources doing an x-ray on a patient, when a cracked rib was the worst thing at stake. Considering that people could crack ribs by sneezing too hard, neither of them considered it to be a threat…

He sighed again and swished the scotch around in its glass; a smile crept across his face as he relaxed again, for the first time that day. The peaceful tranquillity of the gently hum of the machines, the bubbling of his chemistry set, the deafening roar of thrusters, which were getting louder as his robotic butler approached…

"How may I serve you master?" Wadsworth pried, causing him to sigh and roll his eyes as he opened them. He didn't mind Wadsworth's company, he just hated being waited on as Denis was more than capable of looking after himself and he didn't need a slave to do his chores for him. The only reason that he kept him around was that he knew that it would be disassembled, if he sold it to someone else.

"Erm… Nothing right no- A-Actually, could you turn the jukebox on?" Denis decided to ask, suddenly realising that it was missing.

"No problem sir." The machine replied, turning around and levitating upstairs, where it stopped and probed the music player, with its ghastly pincers, turning the device on. The device clicked and crackled as the signal came through and Three Dog's loud, obnoxious, yet welcomed, voice poured through the speakers.

"Good evenin' Capital Wasteland, this is Three Dog! Your last best hope for honest news and fantastic tunes…" The rest was drowned out, by the infernal sound of Wadworth's thrusters as the robot came back for more chores.

"Anything else that you require sir?"

Denis secretly loathed the thrusters, he admired the machine's dedication but the noise of the jet pack annoyed him to no end…

"N-No, I'm good, thanks."

"Very good sir, if you need me, then all you need do is…"

"Ask, I know… You're a good friend Wadworth." Denis replied, cutting him short to shut him up, so that he'd hopefully piss off upstairs and lock himself in his room. The machine acted predictably, knowing that it was time to go, it didn't appreciate compliments as it didn't feel emotion, at least not real emotions…

"… -dy told me, that today… is an important day, a day to mark on your pip boys or your recycled calendars or… put a little star above today's tally, if you're livin' in a public bathroom.

Today, my friends, is August 17th… Five years ago today, a certain scientist, named James, crawled out of the ground and began the first steps on his quest to ensure that the Capital Wasteland got free and clean water for all.

But I doubt that even he knew the impact that his journey had on the Wasteland… For it wasn't long after, that his son, Denis, stepped out of that hole in the ground and began **his** first steps, into the unknown…

The two of them have changed the face of this place… Bringing hope to those who had none, justice to the little guy and given plenty of the big guys a few new holes in their foreheads to whistle through. Over the past three years, we've seen Paradise Falls; a place that once prayed on the weak and vulnerable, become a refugee camp, which helps the very people that its last inhabitants exploited.

We've seen clean water go from a commodity to something that is delivered to our doorstep, every week, without fail.

We've seen the Enclave, driven to oblivion, hopefully away and gone forever…

So… Whether you're listening from Megaton, Underworld, Rivet City or the ghoul city that was once known as Tenpenny tower? Raise your nearest glass for Denis…

The Lone Wanderer…"

It wouldn't surprise anyone who actually knew him but Denis was **not** enjoying this; he loathed people making a fuss over him and his actions. In truth, it was the fact that they were so eager to make him an Urban Saint or perhaps a Saint in general…

Ana Holt couldn't raise her glass, not when her brains were splattered all over the floor of that Enclave base, for daring to work with them. The people of Tenpenny tower, Herbert Dashwood, last generation's Lone Wanderer wasn't raising his glass and what about the people of Paradise falls? What about the survivors and the people that he hadn't helped, those who died to save him…

Their glasses were collecting dust, Lucas Simms, Moriarty, Dashwood, Star Paladin Cross, Cherry…

Dad…

He'd failed just as many people as he'd saved and in truth, he heard their final words, whether they were begging for him to save them, to stop hurting them or urging him to go on without them…

Praise made it all come back…

"And now, we have us a new song for this occasion… Our scavengers found this on a holodisk, a few months back but I've been saving it for this **exact** occasion…

Pour yourselves a glass of the nearest alcoholic beverage that you can find and enjoy Bill Landford and the Landfordaires'…

Run on…

Run on you slavers, you raiders, you mutant bastards and whatever's left of the Enclave!

Because he's coming for you…"

The record slowly began to play and the sweet sound of strumming slowly leaked through the speakers, which was soon followed by the harmonies of several African American men.

"You might run on, for a long time…

Run on, ducking and dodging…

Run on children, for a long time…

Let me tell you, God almighty's gonna cut you down…"

Denis sat back, hoping that the attention would shift onto something else soon, though in all honesty, he did rather like the spirit of this song. He continued to sit in silence, his toes curled in his boots as he had another sip of his scotch, sighing heavily as he sat back, onto his couch.

Only a few more days here, then he could get back out there, do some good and hopefully find some trouble…


	4. Eviction

**A/N: Well, here's chapter 4!**

**This week we return to Thomas Hamilton as he tries to get his home back and sets the first events into motion, retaking his status as the Devil of the wastes!**

**I imagine that this chapter will go down pretty well as it's going to be pretty eventful. Remember, I like reviews and feedback, even if it's in a private message, it's all good. It's nice to know what people like and what I can change to improve this story and I'm always happy to answer any questions.**

**Have fun children! :D**

* * *

It was 4PM and after a lot of persuasion, the security chief arranged a council meeting, to hear Thomas' case. The council consisted of several ghouls, each of them had some status here, like Cheng, Gustavo and Burke and it was somewhat reminiscent of that song and dance routine that Rivet City used to put on.

Three ghouls, in business suits and one in combat armour, heard his case before putting the meeting on hold, to discuss it among themselves. Thomas sat in silence, not even bothering to lip read or try to listen in, he was getting his house back, no matter what.

It didn't take them long before they broke up their little discussion and turned back to Hamilton, slowly straightening their backs, pretending that they were men as they began to address him. Thomas made a similar gesture, slowly lifting his spine and getting out of his slouched seating position as he made eye contact with them, his intense, unforgiving brown eyes, met the milky overcast center of theirs as the head of the council, an elderly ghoul woman, began to speak.

"I'm sorry, Mister Hamilton, but it seems that you're out of luck… Mister Rawlings has been living in that apartment for six months now; he's settled in and become a productive member of our community. You say that you haven't slept there in…?"

"Five years…" Hamilton answered, coldly, keeping his gaze fixed on the weakest council member, a younger male ghoul, who probably owned one of the stores.

"I think that it's safe to say that you abandoned your home…"

"No, it's **easier** to say that I 'abandoned' my home. In truth? You all **know** that I **must** have intended to come back at some point or another, that I still saw it as my home." The Slaver corrected them, slowly sitting up as he made his case, feeling the back of the wooden chair dig into his spine.

"Be that as it may…" The Security chief started, he aimed to cut him off but Thomas had just managed to get his word in before he began.

"I'm pretty sure that Tenpenny would have put that place on the market, you were gone for **five years**. Most people would think that you were dead, if you'd been gone for two weeks."

"Most people are idiots… Tenpenny wouldn't have underestimated me like that." Hamilton responded, slowly sitting up, keeping his gaze fixed on them, watching them shrink into their chair. It was like he had the power to emit heat out of his eyes, which could melt anyone caught in his gaze, who knew that they were in his gaze, back into their chairs or their little holes, where they could cry.

"Yeah? Well, Tenpenny's dead, so his rules don't apply anymore; his judgement or lack thereof doesn't apply anymore." The Security Chief began to raise his voice, showing that he had an aggressive disliking for Hamilton, a sentiment that Thomas shared, whole heartedly.

"Yeah… Tenpenny's dead, killed by the 'great' Roy Philips and ending his 'tyranny' forever." Thomas recited in a dismissive voice, showing how much faith he had in that story. The council didn't like that, he'd only been on the scene for five minutes and he'd already made his mind up about the whole thing, without knowing the facts, without knowing what it was like in the early days.

"Alistair Tenpenny had the chance to build an alliance with Roy Philips, in the early days and allow anyone to live here; he chose to shun him and gave him no choice. Tenpenny might have shown you a kindness but to the rest of us…"

"No…"

"Excuse me?"

"No, Tenpenny showed me no 'kindness'…" Hamilton corrected her, slowly standing up, his hands trembling in rage at the assumption.

"Tenpenny didn't offer me a roof over my head, until I agreed to work for him; I spent the best part of a year, sleeping rough before that. He didn't just let me live here, he sent me out, put a gun in my hands and told me to kill whoever looked at him funny the day before. At nineteen, I was that old bastard's hitman and the killing **never** stopped.

I killed or I was out on my ass, I don't see the kindness in that, do **you?**"

The Ghouls sat in silence, slowly glancing to eachother for some confirmation, that they were supposed to be uncomfortable, nobody had the courage to speak just yet.

"Don't get me wrong, I still did it, I fuckin' loved it. But I knew, **knew** that if I said 'no,' that I'd be out there, with the rest of the chumps and that I'd lose my place here. It wasn't until the time that I left that Tenpenny tried to get all chummy with me, acted like he actually respected me but that wasn't respect…

It was fear…

Fear that one day, I'd get a better offer and put a slug between his eyes." He finished with a faint huff, as if he was dismissing any connectivity to the events of the past, detaching himself from the feelings that he may have felt before from the well, from which he drew his anger.

"It was through that fear that I earned my place here, as a permanent resident. Not out of 'love' or 'kindness' or any of that fairy tale bullshit but, because I knew, as much as he did, that Tenpenny would get a bullet between the eyes if he fucking dared to come to **me** and tell me that none of that was true!"

The Security Chief got up, clenching his fists and slowly reaching up to his assault rifle's butt, wrapping his decaying fingers around it as he got ready to draw.

"Was that a threat?"

"No, you see, I **know** that you aren't him, right? That's why, when you took this place, the first act that you did was commit genocide, wipe every last 'smoothskin' out and dump their bodies in the basement. Oh, I **know** about that, I **know** that Roy Philips had people like Dashwood, people who didn't have one negative thought against your kind murdered and dumped in the basement with the rest. It was genocide, pure and simple, the aim was the clear this building of the unpure."

The elderly council woman stood up, this angered her most as she had been here since the start. Roy Philips was wrong, she **knew** that, she was horrified herself when he committed that atrocity and she didn't sleep for months after it.

"Roy Philip's actions were indescribably evil; I didn't even flinch when Denis executed him. That was a new beginning for all of us, a new society, that was free from the madness and bigotry of both Roy Philips **and** Tenpenny!"

"Yeah, it's a perfect world… Funny how there aren't any 'smooth skins' in your 'multi racial society." Thomas pointed out, smirking a little as he got under her skin with his passive aggression, he could do this all day but he was never a fan of long council meetings.

In fact, he wasn't a fan of council meetings full stop

"Not many humans wish to live in a tower that's mostly occupied by ghouls." The Elderly council woman pointed out, the others just stood in silence at this point as they often did, when things got heated. It was obvious that she had headed more than a few debates in her time, hell, she probably organised them all.

"Funny, one of them does and you're turning him away."

"We've reached our maximum capacity; your race has **nothing** to do with it."

"You wouldn't even let me in, to trade my salvage."

"We didn't know who you **were**!"

"You knew that I was human and that was enough… Enough to turn me around and send me back out, into the wastes, to die." Thomas pointed out, with a frown, even though his face was quite static, it was obvious that he was expressing some sort of rage towards their hypocrisy.

"You people, you're just a rotten version of Tenpenny's people, same bigoted policies, disguised as a 'tolerant society.' It's all a sham, bullshit, pantomime to make people sleep easier at night, knowing that they aren't like the bastards that they took this place from, the ones that they butchered, the ones that sleep forever in the cold, dark maintenance room, underneath the tower…" He slowly paused, though he didn't know why. To compose himself? Or maybe it was for dramatic effect…

"In reality? You're **much** worse…"

The Elderly woman would hear no more of it, she stood up, fire in her milky-grey eyes as her fists tightened and she seethed at her 'guest.'

"That's quite enough…"

"You're right, it **is** enough… Enough bullshit, enough pantomime, this shit ends… **Tonight.**" Thomas grumbled, grabbing his Colt 1911, which was safely tucked down his back. He brought it around and shot the zombie council woman, in the face. The force of the gun knocked her head back as bits of brain sprayed across the room, in a pink mist. She fell backwards, onto her wooden chair and made an unceremonious descent to the ground.

The Security Chief didn't hesitate, he grabbed his assault rifle but was too slow and he was the second one to get shot in the head, a bullet went through his eye and a 'clunk' could be heard as it went straight through his softened skull, left the back of his head and hit his helmet, possibly passing through. He was the second to fall, twirling around as he did so and landing on the floor, with a thud.

The young, ghoul man and another councillor, who hadn't spoken up yet, just stood, dumbstruck, too startled to say or do anything. Their, probably loose, jaws dropped and their mouths were agape as they tried to process the massacre that they had just witnessed. It was obvious that the two of them were strangers to violence, something that Hamilton found pitiful.

Two more gun shots and their bodies, immediately, spasmed before they fell to the floor, with a thud. Tom didn't even move, didn't even flinch at the sight of their bodies, he just stood there, with a smoking gun, admiring his work.

"Four down…" He muttered, leaning his pistol to the side, he had one round left.

"Fuck knows how many to go…"

With that, he stepped forward and bent down, wrapping his hand around the body of the Security Chief's assault rifle. An R91, American made crap, like the M16, it jammed too easily but it will do for now…

He picked it up and checked the clip, it was full, he began to have doubts as to whether or not this thing had been used before as it looked brand new. He'd prefer a Chinese Assault Rifle or the Assault Carbine but he'd just have to make do with this for now. He put the clip back in and pulled the latch back, listening to the ever so satisfying click as it was snapped into place.

Time to go, kill some zombies…

* * *

Thomas heard the 'ding' of the elevator and slowly raised his rifle, holding it by the grip, resting the butt on his forearm as he walked along, pointing it in the air. There were a few people and security guards in the room, gassing among themselves, too absorbed in their own pretentious lives to notice that a homeless man had just walked into the lobby, with a military grade assault rifle.

Hamilton decided that he didn't want to raise his voice; he let his gun do the talking. He gently squeezed the trigger and fired a few shots in the air, the loud blasts echoed throughout the reception area. Again, the Chinese Assault rifle was **much** louder but… this'll do.

"Listen up you rotting, sacks of shit. I want you out of my building, I'm gonna start from ten and after that, it's fair fuckin' game!" He announced, turning his assault rifle on the room, aiming it at no one in particular.

"Ten…"

Everyone looked to eachother in disbelief, not knowing whether or not they should feel threatened as two security guards drew their assault rifles and began to advance. A ghoul, who was dressed in Edgar Wellington's clothes, from the looks of him, advanced towards the desk and placed his hands on it. Before anyone could stop him, he leaned over and asked…

"Is this some kind of a jo…?" His dumb question was answered with a 5.56 round to the forehead, which tore through the top of his head, essentially slicing his head in half.

"**Nine!**"

The gunshots and bloodshed got everyone moving, screams could be heard and people began to make a run towards the door, fearing for their lives.

"Somebody do something!" A woman screamed, her gravelly voice echoed back to Tom's ears as the security guards approached him and raised their weapons. Tom just shrugged and raised his rifle in response, squeezing the trigger in rapid succession and sending 3 bullets into each of their heads, piercing through any happy memories of them eating brains. In truth, Thomas didn't believe any of this 'you gotta shoot 'em in the head' crap. He knew the difference between a regular ghoul and a feral but it made him somewhat more intimidating if he appeared to be some sort of exterminator, rather than someone who hates them for being unscrupulous bastards.

As their bodies fell to the floor, several ghouls appeared from the shops, the café and the bar to check what was going on. Thomas rolled his eyes, he didn't have the patience to put up with this shit anymore…

He started firing rounds at individual ghouls, hitting them, one by one, in fatal places. This obviously caused a panic; all of the civilian residence started the scream and make a break for the door. Once they had clustered together, Hamilton just sprayed his entire magazine into the congregation outside. The bodies fell in the dozens and most of the crowd were now lay around the fountain, dead or seriously wounded.

A few at the front got away but he didn't care about them, he had other problems, like that dipshit, just above the entrance, who thought that he was a sniper. He drew his N99 10mm pistol and took aim; these bullets were usually quite weak and ineffective against armour, so he had to hit the face.

Child's play…

He took the shot, hitting the ghoul in face and sending his head back. He fell, almost comically as the rest of his body followed his head as it was knocked back, by the force of the 10mm round and he did a sort of back flip as he fell to the floor.

Tom didn't have much time to celebrate as four more ghouls came pouring out of the sitting area and the café, arriving late to the party after arranging their tactics. If their tactic wasn't: Make a break for the front door, then they were fucked before they started. Tom smirked as he activated his VATS targeting system and marked his target.

Head 100%

Head 100%

Head 93%

Head 87%

After marking his targets, he began to fire, the two 100%ers went down first, their bodies tragically fell to the floor and they added two more heaps for Thomas to clean up later. He then fired at the less certain targets, they were further away and were moving faster, they had a higher percent chance of dodging and there was a possibility of him totally missing them. A stationary target, no matter how small, was often easier to hit than a moving target, that was shooting back.

He fired his two shots; one of them spun around and fell to the floor but the other kept on running and gunning. It appears that Tom was way off and had hit the wall behind him instead; the Slaver ducked as the bullets began to fly, seething as he bent down and took cover, behind the welcome desk.

"Fuck!" He snapped, pain shot through his foot as, in truth, he'd wished that he could have just stayed standing the whole time, his feet were killing him.

It was then that the worst case scenario happened, several fuckwit guards came pouring down the stairs and began shooting him, covering the fuckwit residents as they ran past them, using them as a shield as they ran for cover.

This was bad as Thomas had no cover and he was exposed to them, however, they were all incredible inadequate shooters, to the point that they were almost like child soldiers. He pitied them, for being so helpless and useless as the desk, around him, was riddled with bullets.

Hamilton managed to shoot two of the guards but the third one achieved the seemingly impossible and managed to hit him in his right shoulder. He cried out in pain and clutched the wound, his fingers curled around it as he felt the blood seep through his, already dirty; shirt and his fingers were soon wet with the dark, crimson liquid, that oozed from the gunshot wound. As a result, his right arm had completely locked up, it was agony to even move the fingers on his right hand, never mind raise it and fire his weapon.

He quickly grabbed at his Colt 1911, with his left hand, wrapping his fingers around its rustic grip and raising it up, the dirty, heavily scratched, barrel now pointed at the last fuckwit's body. Without a second thought, Hamilton pulled the trigger and the .45 round went right through his chest piece and sent him flying onto his back.

It didn't kill him, just incapacitated him, Hamilton would finish the job later…

For now, he had to kill the other guards, there was potentially four of them left and using V.A.T.S, he could easily take them all down. Hell, he could take them all down without vats, he'd had worse than this, he'd had times where he was completely unarmed, down to his last round, with several wounds and he'd made it out. This was nothing, just strenuous exercise…

He jumped up, taking them by surprise as his pipboy lit up and everything slowed down.

Head 87%

Head 79%

Head 84%

Head 62%

Those were some odds, his injuries must lower his chances, though it didn't matter to him as he could kill them all anyway, it'd just take a little longer. He went through with it and after four shots; three bodies fell to the floor. 87,79 and 62 fell but 84 remained and continued to shoot at him. These guards were horribly inaccurate, Tenpenny's security force were pretty shit, they only looked impressive, because they never had to kill anyone and anyone that they did end up going against was either unarmed or barely what you'd call armed.

They only went up against one guy, with a gun, in the year that Hamilton lived there and he was one psychoed up nut job, with a barely functional 10mm pistol. The guy managed to kill a member of the security force before he was gunned down, something that was inexcusable in Hamilton's eyes. This ghoul had him in his sights but all of his bullets just flew **right** past him, he couldn't even hit his body.

Tom just looked at the ghoul, with a look of contempt as he raised his 10mm pistol, with no sense of urgency and fired a 10mm round into the final guard's head, watching it fly back before his body spasmed on the way down to the floor.

The 'war' was over, Tenpen- Philips tower, was now Hamilton's…

Unfazed by his victory, Thomas just lowered his pistol and looked at the pile of bodies, by the fountain and those scattered about the reception area. He was neither impressed nor disturbed by the fact that he had just killed around fifty people and taken a major landmark as it wasn't a noteworthy challenge.

He just continued to stare ahead, slowly scanning the bodies, with his eyes, to see if there was anything of note about them. You never know, he could have shot someone that he used to know, a long time ago…

It was then that he heard coughing, coming from his left and the pitter patter of blood as it was coughed out of a guard's lungs and fell on the floor beside him. Thomas looked over to the pathetic sight of the dying ghoul, who was rolling around on his back, drowning in his own blood as he groaned in agony, due to the shrapnel, that was lodged in his chest. The Slaver rolled his eyes and he picked up the assault rifle, which was empty but he could find ammo from the fallen security members and sell the rifles to local merchants.

He looked down at the ghoul, unable to hide his indifference as he saw him coughing and spluttering, he had a pink beard, from where the blood had been coughed up, onto his face and he immediately looked up to Tom, with puppy dog eyes, begging for an end.

Hamilton slowly raised his pistol, the N99 hovered over the ghoul's head as he took his aim and without any trace of confrontation, the Slaver pulled the trigger, resulting in a disappointing click.

His magazine was empty…

"Guess you're shit out of luck pall…" Thomas smirked, though he already knew that this would be the case as he kept count, he **always** kept count.

The ghoul continued to you cough, gargling the blood in the back of his throat as he began to panic as he was now definitely drowning in his own blood. Thomas knew that he'd be dead in minutes and simply left him to his fate, there were people who could have survived their wounds, who he needed to put down…

* * *

After a long two hours of shifting bodies, Hamilton finally had a hold over this tower. He had checked every room, every dark corner, to see if someone was cowering in fear, hoping to stay put or slip out tonight. He found a few and easily put them down, only one of them fought back, with a Chinese pistol, which was completely worthless, the bastard may as well have thrown rocks at him for the good that a hit would've done him.

His old room was empty, tempted as he was to go in an pick up, where he had left off, he now had Tenpenny's penthouse and so, he had little to no desire to live in his former room. This was **his** tower now, he'd made it, at long last, he was a king.

He stood on Tenpenny's table, the furniture had all been reserved as the council members probably sat on it, looking out at the many people who were rotting in the streets below, people they had refused access to, just an hour before.

His feet were firm on the table, which had a bag leant against it, it was a large golf bag, filled to the brim with gold balls, which Tom would pick up and drop onto an upturned cup, to hold it in place, before firing it off into the wasteland with a driver. He smirked as he watched the white ball fly through the air and vanish into the distance; this was the thing that separated kings from gods.

He went for his second swing before seething and growling in pain as the pain of his wound shot through his body. He had to lower the club as he clutched the wound, gently cradling his right arm. He'd put the pain to the back of his mind for a brief moment, so that he could achieve the first swing but now it was too painful to ignore, he'd have to get Cutter to patch him up in the morning.

He wondered how Eulogy would receive him, would he be the prodigal son, who had returned at long last? Or that shithead, who ditched them, to go and frolic with the inbreds in Maryland or would they even give a fuck? Would Hamilton still mean anything to them? Would anyone from the old days be alive to remember him? Even Clover?

Well, he knew that Clover was too messed up to feel anything for him, she'd fuck anyone who held her leash, even if he'd just asked a random stranger to keep an eye on her, whilst he took a leek. Still, he wondered if she was still his, if Eulogy was just keeping her warm for him or whether he wanted to keep her. He wished he had a receipt, so that he could prove that she was his, he probably should've asked for one.

Fuck it, he'd just have to deal with that bridge, when he came to it. For now? He needed to rest, he'd disinfected and bandaged the wound, it'll hold, until he reaches Cutter's tender, nurturing hands tomorrow.

It was with that thought that he remembered that he'd have to bring a fuck ton of caps…


	5. Adjustment

**A/N: Hello again, desolate wasteland!**

**It has been a long while since I last posted a chapter and despite the length of this chapter, I assure you that it didn't take me the best part of two months to type it up. I've recently been dealing with a lot, I've enrolled into University and just before that, I fell into a state of depression. I haven't really been in the mood to write as you can probably tell and have only just got around to do doing it again.**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter of Iconoclash, this chapter is special, for two reasons.**

**It's the first chapter which follows more than one character: Yes, this chapter follows both of our protagonists, Denis and Thomas as well as a third character, technically a fourth.**

**It introduces a new OC, well, two new OCs technically.**

**Annieway, I hope that this chapter goes down well. As always, please, please, please leave reviews, if I know what people like/don't like I can make the necessary adjustments to improve the story, so please, your opinion does matter, even if it's just to tell me that you are reading, I'd like to know.**

**Welp, enough stalling (we've had two months worth of that) and on with the show!**

* * *

Hamilton awoke in his bed, the following morning. His eyes lazily opened and adjusted to the light that radiated from the ceiling. He sighed, heavily as he began to sit up, his mind was slowly starting up and getting ready for the day.

The Slaver rolled over and sat up; rubbing his hands up and down his face, seething as he felt the pain in his shoulder and the memories came flooding back to him. Last night was one hell of a shoot out, possibly his most intense combat experience he'd had, since he ran into another group of slavers, during his travels.

In truth, he knew that these quiet mornings were one thing that he'd miss, once things were operational again. Lying in, having a good night's sleep and the freedom to do whatever he wanted but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to take this tower for himself and restore Tenpenny's way of life as well as receiving a permanent and steady income source.

His first step would be to head to Paradise Falls; he knew that Eulogy would give him some men, to use as a security force of some kind. He'd eventually have the money to pay some mercs to guard this tower, some decent mercs to, not the posh-boy pussies in cream armour that Tenpenny probably picked up from a beauty pageant for men. His Mercs wouldn't get overrun by a couple of zombies, that's for damn sure.

Hamilton threw his legs over the side of his bed and slowly pulled himself out; he groaned as was forced to put some weight on his gunshot shoulder as he did so, slowly rising to his feet as the familiar sound of a jet hovered over to him. He looked up, to see the Mr Handy, his robotic butler, floating before his eyes, awaiting instruction.

Unfortunately 'fuck off' does not compute…

"Good morning Sir! What can I do for you?"

Thomas was once again tempted to give him a command, that he already knew wouldn't compute but he sighed and shook his head.

"Do you dispense aspirin?" He asked, hoping that the bucket of bolts would say 'yes' and help his headache.

"I am sorry sir but I my functions do not allow me to administer or prescribe medication, during my household cleaning settings. Please consult the manual to change my settings, if you wish for me to administer any…"

"Yeah, yeah… it was just a fuc-argh!" The Slaver growled and snatched at his throbbing shoulder as he looked to it, he noticed that his skin was incredibly pale…

"Pardon me sir but you do look a tad… Under the weather. May I suggest that you seek out Doctor K'aan and get it treated, immediately?"

"Doctor… Who? Oh, you mean that zombie doc, downstairs? No, I'd have to sell my other arm just to get him to take a look at this one." Hamilton replied, bitterly as he seethed again, it was like someone was poking the wound, just to provoke him.

" I'll get cutter to fix it up, once I get to paradise falls…"

"Very good Sir, will you require any provisions before you go?"

"No, I can… pack my own bag…" Hamilton quickly stood up and stumbled forward, his infected wound was obviously taking a great toll on his body but he decided to push it to the back of his mind as he staggered across the room and began to pack his rucksack, ready for the journey ahead.

In truth, he wouldn't need a bag, just his gun and a few chems, in case he got shot at but otherwise, Hamilton travelled light.

Of course, his travelling clothes, his Merc Grunt outfit was horribly torn up, dirty, creased, on top of being shot to shit, so he decided that he'd have to wear something else, for his grand return. He got up and placed his bag on his bed as he staggered over to his wardrobe and flung it open, seeing a sight that he hadn't seen for the best part of five years…

He hung on the door, panting heavily as he already felt fatigued from moving around and picking up his heavy bag. He gazed into the wardrobe and his grin widened and he dwelled on its contents. Several, black, grimy pre-war business suits hung before him. A, mostly, white shirt, accompanied by a red tie and some shoes at the base of the wardrobe.

"Hello old friend…" He grinned, bearing his yellow teeth as he reached inside and took the suit off of the hanger and quickly got into it. He spent some time changing as every movement hurt him; sending shooting pains through his chest and down his back. It made him feel like an old man, a thought that didn't exactly comfort him but he shrugged and pushed past it, in order to get changed. He slowly slipped into the business suit and adjusted it, so that it was perfect before he slowly stepped in front of the mirror.

Though he was all dressed up, he forgot something; he still had his beard…

He'd have to shed it, as it was the last remnant of his savage appearance. He turned around, to Godfrey and glared at the robotic butler.

"I'd like the usual…" The Slaver ordered, his voice was incredibly stern and firm as if there was some underlay of threat in his command. The Mr Handy brandished its pincers and began to whir its saw and slowly moved in…

* * *

Thomas stood before his mirror, adjusting the lapels on his suit jacket as he straightened himself up. The machine had helped him shed his beard, most of it at least; he kept a little tuft on his chin and the mustache, to give himself a suave, swashbuckler type of facial hair.

The Slaver watched himself, like the was a window, into his past, after removing the grime and the grit of the wasteland from his face, he hadn't changed a jot. He was like a ghost, a spectre, come back to haunt the Wastes and anyone who dared to oppose him five years ago.

He turned to his door and placed his roving trader hat on his head, it didn't go with the suit but he didn't give a damn, he liked that hat. Its owner was quite fond of it, which made looting it off of his corpse all the sweeter.

With that cheery thought in mind, Hamilton slowly wandered towards the door, not even bothering to wish his over glorified toaster farewell as he headed towards the lobby.

The Slaver stepped inside the elevator and hit the ground floor and with an almighty 'clunk,' the lift shifted and it slowly began its descent. Thomas hated this rickety old thing, though he kept his hatred of it to himself but, in truth, he often feared getting trapped inside, hell, if that were to happen now, he'd probably starve to death in here…

_Fuck, don't think about, don't think about it…_

Finally, like a blessing, he heard the 'ding' sound, indicating that he had reached his destination; Hamilton couldn't get out of that elevator fast enough. Thomas lunged forward and slipped through the doorway of the elevator and stepped out into the main reception area.

The smell of decaying flesh hit him, like a battering ram, causing Thomas to start spluttering as he brought his hand to his face. The stink of it was unbearable as the pile of already rotting ghouls were left out, stacked up against the doorway and left to cook in the sun. He hoped that his Mr Handy could be brought down here, so that he could pile them up in the courtyard and burn them and hopefully send them back to whatever hell spewed them out.

The man in the black suit composed himself; he gave himself a minute to adjust to the rancid smell as quickly as possible before eventually straightening his back and narrowing his eyes at the door. He slowly began to wander over to it, his fist relaxed and formed back into a hand that he easily dragged across the reception desk as he approached the front door.

The Slaver straightened his back as he strode over the bodies, his dead eyes were fixed on the path ahead, ready to find paradise falls, return to his place by Eulogy Jones' side and build up the influence that he once had.

And then? He would ascend, beyond his former status, to the point that he was the most powerful man in the wastes.

Hamilton wasted no time, hitting the button for the automated gate and watching it open, with a slight smile as he hopped over the security sand bag and grabbed a dead guard, who he slowly dragged over to the gateway and dropped at the far end, to serve as a door stop.

Here's hoping that he serves as a better door stop than he did a guard…

Hamilton stepped out, into the wastes once more as he heard the sound of the gate's mechanism, whirring around as it slowly began to close behind him and he scanned the area ahead with his eyes before looking up to the sky.

Thomas Hamilton was back!

Hamilton brought up his pipboy and began to look for paradise falls on his map, he set a marker to it and began to follow the signal, as he made his way to the slaver camp. He turned left and followed the crumbling wall, until it he reached its end and then went straight over to the road, to start his journey.

Little did he know, that he was being observed, from a considerable distance. A concealed figure was already aware of his presence and was watching him from afar, noting his actions and seemingly waiting for him to leave.

As Hamilton left the immediate area, the figure stood up and approached Tenpenny Tower, they were somewhat thankful for the fact that Hamilton had left it open, using a dead ghoul to make a wide enough gap for them to slip through, so that they could execute their plans…

* * *

The sun had long since risen over Megaton and today was Denis' last day of rest, thank the lord. Things were so damn slow here, that he was almost tempted to re-arm the bomb, at the center of town again, just so that there would be a problem to solve.

He got the occasional visitor, Lucy West sometimes came over with food as Denis was the only person who visited her brother, in Arefu and he was the only one who she could talk to about her concerns, regarding his 'condition.'

She often came over with pie though, damn good pie to, so Denis didn't have anything to complain about. That and he'd be lying if he said that he didn't like the occasional visitor, every now and then.

Today would be his last day of laying around and doing jack.

Well… it had better be as he couldn't stand another day, cooped up in his shack. 'How do normal people cope?' He often thought to himself. Over the past three days or so, he'd made chems, read around twenty books, set up a shooting range and shot it down again, saved a young girl, saved Harden's badge **and **listened to God knows how many hours of radio and yet he was still bored.

It was on that thought that Wadsworth, his personal robotic butler, entered the room, jet pack, like thrusters radiated the atmosphere, in the same way that nails would, when scraped across a chalk board. Maybe that would be a good project today, make some quieter thrusters for Wadsworth, it would make being caged in this shack all day a little more tolerable at least.

"Good morning sir." It said, in its usual formal manner.

"I trust that you slept well?"

Denis sat up and shrugged as he looked to the bandage, taped to his gunshot wound, he hoped to be able to remove it today.

"Y-Yeah, slept like…" He stopped to yawn before getting up, his eyelids felt like they were plastered open, so that they wouldn't droop shut.

"Slept like the dead…"

"Ah, very good Sir, would you like a hot beverage?"

Denis knew that the answer to this question was always 'no' as he didn't own a coffee maker and he shuddered to think as to what this bucket of bolts mistook for such a device.

The sink? The toiler? The jar, which he kept on his mantelpiece, which contained a piece of his brain matter?

Best not to ask…

"N-No, thank you… I'll erm… Get something from Gob's."

"Very good, just make sure that you **do** eat. Doctor Church and Moira Brown have instructed me, to remind you to eat at least three meals a day, whilst you're recovering."

"Yeah, Moira **does** like to torment me, doesn't she?" The Regulator smirked, slowly shaking his head as he stood up and stretched, immediately stopping as his wound began to flare up.

"Oh and you had a caller, this morning. Doctor Church himself dropped by."

"Oh? Did you tell him that I've been taking my medication and that I don't need any more antibiotics?"

"Yes sir, he then informed me that, that wasn't the reason behind his visit. He informed me that 'the girl has finally awoken." As he said that, it sounded almost robotic, as if he was mimicking Doc Church on the basis that he didn't know what any of that meant, despite it being a straight forward message.

"Shit! When?" Denis snapped, he was more than a little annoyed at the fact that he wasn't told and seemingly left in the dark on this.

"About… Half an hour ago, I believe."

"Shit!" Denis hissed again, running across the room and throwing his shirt on, along with his duster coat.

"Why didn't you wake me!?"

"I fear that no protocol has been set, in the case of such events, you never specified that this was more important than your sleep."

"Remind me to set a protocol, which results in you getting pistol whipped, if you do this to me again…" Denis grumbled, pulling his coat over his shoulders as he straightened it and began his descent.

"Have a good day, Sir and don't forget to eat…" Before he could finish his sentence, the door slammed shut and Denis hurried over to the clinic.

* * *

Denis arrived at the clinic, within the minute. He barged into Doc Church's office, panting and wheezing as he clung to his gunshot wound and fell against the door, panting heavily as he recovered from his sprint.

Church was sat at his terminal, staring at Denis with a seemingly unimpressed expression, though he always gave that look to everyone, who entered his clinic.

"Glad to see that you showed up eventually…" The Doctor replied, slowly standing up and wandering over to the Regulator.

"**And** you're ignoring my recommendations.

What happened to 'resting up?"

Denis laughed, faintly, wincing as it hurt his injuries, he gave the Doc a quick glance and smirked.

"You know what they say, 'Doctors make the worst patients…"

Doc church couldn't help but smirk as he folded his arms and shook his head.

"I think you'll find that young hoodlums, who think that they know better than everyone else make the 'worst patients." The Doc replied, handing Denis some buffout but getting it knocked away, he didn't need it as his fatigue was due to the fact that he was sprinting, normal running didn't do this to him.

"So… Where's the girl?" Denis asked, returning to his previous look of concern as he looked over the Doc's shoulder, he'd forgot that he kept patients out of his office.

"She's fine." The Doctor assured him, looking over to the right, to the room that he kept most of his non-contagious patients in.

"She's resting, still getting over the sedative I gave her."

"How bad was it? The gunshot, I mean?"

"Well, the armour took most of the damage, of course, that was just as much a curse as it was a blessing as it severely bruised her abdomen. Luckily, there was no internal damage but she did cut her head, when she fell." Doc Church explained as he walked Denis through the clinic, he figured that Denis would be a better ambassador for the city of Megaton as Doc Church's people skills weren't exactly something to brag about.

"I looked over her personal belongings, to make sure that she didn't have a next of kin, I didn't assume the worst but I guessed that someone would eventually come looking for her."

"Find anything?"

"No, just a couple of 10mm bullets and a few bottle caps, from the looks of things, she's either a traveler, down on her luck or a member of a local settlement.

Her travelling light implies either…"

"Did she have any jewellery? Pendant, anything?"

"Nope, no jewellery or anything, no papers or documentation…

Perhaps she's an… adventuring type, like you?"

Denis scowled the thought of someone as young as her risking getting herself killed for 'fun' annoyed the hell out of him somehow. It seemed almost hypocritical but some people didn't understand the dangers of the Capital Wasteland. Unlike him, some people do have a choice and they choose to sabotage their own futures for a bit of fun, something that only an irresponsible idiot would do in his eyes.

"Or a kid, who's ran away from home…" Denis grumbled, placing his hand on the door handle and opening it, he nodded to Doc Church, to let him know that, that would be all before shutting the door behind him and slowly approaching the girl.

Without her armour, she was rather skinny, it was clear that she wasn't eating enough out there, her dirty face, lack of funds and broken pistol kind of backed that theory up. She slowly opened her eyes and saw the Regulator stood before her; she stared, sleepily at him for some time before nodding off again.

Denis sighed and pulled up a chair, taking a seat by her bedside and waiting for her to wake up.

This could take a while…

* * *

Hamilton continued his walk along the Capital wasteland's road, though his shoes were a lot more comfortable than his army boots, his blistered heel hurt like hell. His shoulder was flaring up and he felt like he had drank nothing but Nuka Cola Quantum for a week before being kicked in the testicles.

Though he had walked many miles, over the past five years, he had never walked a stretch as long and monotonous as this one. He didn't remember it being **this** far from Tenpenny Tower. Though, then again, he was walking at a snail's pace, due to the intense pain in his feet.

He had been walking for some time before the blissful sight of the ice cream boy statue could be seen on the horizon.

Paradise Falls, at last!

Hamilton straightened his back, walking into a place like this, after being gone for five years could invoke a number of reactions. Eulogy could be long dead, replaced by Forty or maybe a new comer, maybe Grouse finally grew a pair and took his rightful place as leader.

Okay, maybe not.

After all, these were hypotheticals, not fantasies…

Still, it was more than likely that Hamilton wouldn't be welcomed back, Slavers were a bunch of ill educated idiots, who, one minute thought that you were 'slick shit' and then turned on you the next. The best assumption that Hamilton could make that he was either vilified or forgotten. If they had managed to forget him, he'd give them a quick crash course, if they couldn't forget, then hopefully he could appease the leaders by offering them a place at Tenpenny Tower.

Thomas approached the front gate, he expected to see Grouse, mumbling to himself, looking like a slapped ass but instead, there were two guards, in mercenary grunt outfits, armed with assault rifles, wandering back and too.

Hamilton slowly approached them; he decided to keep his gun holstered as drawing it would likely cause a shit storm of biblical proportions. The two guards saw him and strangely didn't raise their weapons, both of them were young men, in their twenties and didn't look like much, if Eulogy was still in charge, the standards of his security force had dropped significantly.

The Slaver raised his hands, slightly, still giving them the space that they needed, he didn't want to make any sudden moves and turn this into a shooting match but in spite of him obviously heading right for the camp, they didn't seem to be doing anything.

"Don't be nervous, friend." One of the mercs said, stepping forward as he spoke for the two of them.

"All are welcome here, just head on through and we'll take a look at you." He assured him, gesturing back to the approach.

Hamilton looked at the man as if he was mad. The fuck was this? A Slaver Camp or a day care center?

"I… You're just letting me through?" He asked, he was almost at a loss for words, they obviously assumed that he was a client but they were so friendly towards him that it was more unnerving than anything.

Was the approach booby trapped? Seemed like a good way of luring in slaves, tell them that safety awaits, at the far end of the approach and then drop a net on them or dig a hole in the ground. It sounded so brilliant, now that he thought about it, he wondered why he didn't think of it sooner.

To be honest, this was the last thing that Hamilton needed right now, he felt like he had been hit by a train, after a night of heavy drinking. He was incredibly pale, his eyes were bloodshot and he probably looked like shit, he was most likely dealing with a major infection right now and needed to get to Cutter as soon as humanly possible.

The other guard picked up on this and began to look a little worried for Hamilton; he slowly peered around, trying to make eye contact.

"Hey, y-you okay buddy?" The Other guard asked, looking and sounding genuinely concerned, with his dumb, hick accent.

_I'm not your fucking buddy, asshole…_

"Y-Yeah… I… I'll go right on through…" The Slaver sounded somewhat breathless, he was already woozy from the infection caused by his gunshot wound and now…

What the hell was going on here? He didn't like it, if he was told to 'fuck off,' he'd feel right at home but why were they being so kind? It didn't make sense, what was this?

"You don't look so good…" The hick commented, looking back to his partner for further instruction or possibly for the location of his own ass as both of his hands would never find it on their own.

"Do you… Wanna help him up?"

The first guard, a younger man, who looked less stressed, took another look at Hamilton, narrowing his eyes as he judged for himself. The younger man was quite fresh faced and actually rather handsome compared to his older, tired looking, lack witted partner. He also, amazingly, looked more experienced, despite his youth.

"Yeah, I can help him up…" He agreed as if Thomas had already passed out and they were deciding what to do with his unconscious form. The Slaver took a step back as he was taken by the arm and slowly escorted up the approach. He tried to whip his arm away but found that everything was just so… dim…

His eyes were darkening, his head was spinning, he didn't even know where he was as all sentience left his body and his slow shuffle eventually ended with him falling; face first, onto the floor.

"Doc!? Doc!? Get a stretcher!" The young guard's voice echoed inside his head…

* * *

Jynx's eyes slowly opened and she drew in a very loud breath of air as her eyes slowly rolled over and looked around the room before they eventually lingered on a young-ish man, presumably in his thirties, in a long coat. He had short, dark brown hair and a full beard that was quite well trimmed, for the most part.

He slowly sat up and adjusted as she began to sit up, the man got up and took her pillow, propping her up before pulling his chair around.

"How're you feeling?" He asked his voice was rather soft, well spoken; it was obvious that he wasn't a raider, he was too well educated. However, that didn't exactly put her at ease; Slavers were often well educated to…

Sometimes smarter people were crueler and more evil than their intellectual lessors.

"S-Stomach hurts…" She admitted as the man was presumably a doctor of some kind. She slowly rolled back the bed sheet to reveal her heavily bruised abdomen, which left a big yellow mark on her belly.

"Yeah, it will…" He mumbled, awkwardly as he reached up and scratched his face.

Still, could've been a lot worse, your armour took all of the impact of the gunshot wound and your stomach took all of the impact of the armour.

So… I guess that you're incredibly lucky in a way." The man smiled as she pulled the cover back over it and began to look around at her surroundings.

"Wh-Where am I?" She asked, cluelessly before looking back to the man, who she assumed was a doctor, though he looked more like a sheriff.

"**You** are in Megaton, again, could've been worse, you could have ended up in the Republic of Dave or something.

Anyway, you're in Doc Church's clinic, that's erm… the Doctor's office, in case this is your first time here."

The Girl nodded, slowly looking around as if she was still dazed, the man awaited her next question, giving her some time.

"And… Who are you?"

The man gave her a smile and moved his hands towards each other, she saw that he was wearing a Pip-Boy 3000, so he was most likely a vault dweller. Or even, **the** vault dweller himself, the Lone Wanderer…

Nah…

"My name's Denis, Doc Church and I thought that it would be best if I was here, when you woke up, because I was the one who brought you in."

Jynx nodded, once again, she guessed that made sense but now she was even more curious.

"Were you… there, when I was shot?"

"Sort of…

The town Deputy mistook you for a raider, he came straight to me and I was the one who carried you back here and Doc Church took care of the rest.

"Oh… Wait, that **kid** was the deputy?"

Denis smirked and shook his head, letting out a soft laugh as he did so, it must have been weird being held at gunpoint and shot at by a kid.

"Yep, Harden Simms, he's the assistant law of this town, took it up after his dad used to be the Sheriff… He erm… He died, on duty, a few years back. A man named Jericho took over as Harden was still too young." Denis explained, though the girl only looked a year or two older than Harden and it felt odd, her referring to him as a 'kid.'

Mind you, fifteen to seventeen is quite a big age gap, when you're that age.

"Oh, I erm… I'm sorry to hear that…" Jynx replied, slowly sitting up as she remembered that she hadn't introduced herself yet or told them anything about herself.

"M-My name's 'Jynx." She added, introducing herself at last, albeit, rather awkwardly.

"Well, it's not really, my name's Raine… But everyone calls me 'Jynx."

Denis smirked, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms as he crossed a foot over, by resting his right ankle on his left knee.

"Why?"

"Erm… Well, bad things tend to happen to me. Like, my gun jamming and getting shot… "

"Ah, that's why you 'drew on him." Denis chuckled, shaking his head with a grin as he leant forward a little.

"Y-Yeah…

I was trying to hand my gun over to him, so that he wouldn't shoot me, I wanted to explain that it was jammed but he shot me anyway…

It got jammed, the other day, when I was walking down a street and came by a radroach. It was one radroach, which I could just shoot and then I'd get to eat tonight. So I drew my gun and shot at it and my gun jammed…

Then the radroach started attacking me…"

Denis began to laugh, involuntarily, he couldn't help but see the humour in that as he began to chuckle to himself. Jynx started to stare at him, like he was mad but eventually started to smile and eventually began to laugh herself, thinking back, it was kind of funny, being chased up the street by an angered roach, getting her heels snapped at as she was forced to flee from an enemy that she could have quite easily have stepped on.

"Oww!" She called out, wrapping her arms around her abdomen and cringing.

"D-Don't… Make me laugh…" She whispered, practically begging him as she held herself together.

"Sorry, I can get you some pain killers…"

"N-No, its fine, I just… Can't move or breathe too hard right now…"

Denis nodded, hanging his head and bringing his hands together, as if he was saying a prayer, a vacuum was created for a brief moment as they were left in silence, wondering what to talk about next.

"So…" Denis began, breaking said vacuum.

"Want something to eat?"

Jynx looked at Denis for a moment, with a rather puzzled look on her face, she seemed almost anxious.

"I don't have much money…"

"I'm going out anyway; it'll be my treat…

Well, my, 'sorry that we shot you in the stomach, please don't leave and come back with a vengeful army' kind of treat but… a treat non-the-less."

Jynx huffed a little, trying not to laugh as it would be agonising if she did so, she eventually nodded in agreement and turned back to Denis.

"Al-Alright…" She agreed, not knowing if she should ask for something, Megaton had a diner and a bar but she didn't know if Denis was talking about his own personal rations.

"Anything in particular that you want? They do all sorts at the Stall's place, erm… squirrel, iguana, noodles…"

'Noodles' was the only thing on the list that didn't make Raine want to dry heave, so she went for that, she wasn't really all that used to wasteland food.

"Erm, yeah, noodles would be good…" She replied, rather awkwardly, she had a feeling that this wasn't going to be free, the healthcare, the food…

Did they expect her to pay? Or… something else?

"Right, I'll be back in a minute.

If you feel ill, whilst I'm gone, Doc Church'll be just outside, just holler if you need him."

Jynx nodded and gave him a smile, slowly relaxing in her bed, if this was going to cost her a great deal, she might as well enjoy it, whilst it lasted…


	6. Conundrum

**A/N: Another weeks, another chapter.**

**However, before we get to it, I have some announcements to make.**

**The first is that I'm going to be introducing a new 'letter hack' feature to each chapter, at the end of the chapter, there's going to be a new section, where I respond to points made in reviews or private messages. I decided that the best way to do this was using a 'letterhack' system, similar to Robert Kirkman's, in his individual issues of The Walking Dead.**

**Not only will this allow me to address individual reviewer comments (especially when I can't communicate with that person, because they don't have an account) but it will also allow me to address certain issues, that I can clarify for any other future readers, who may have the same or similar questions. **

**If I don't get any reviews that week, I may use it to share some trivia or perhaps some parts of the story that were cut for various reasons.**

**The second thing that I need to address is the name, Thomas Hamilton: The other night, I googled the name and discovered that Hamilton shares his name with Thomas Watt Hamilton, who gunned down a number of school children at Dunblane Primary school in the incident that was later known as 'the Dunblane massacre.' **

**Though I was vaguely aware of the massacre, as I am a citizen of the United Kingdom but it was almost twenty years ago and I was incredibly young at the time, I was not aware of the similarities in their name during the conception of this story's protagonist. I want to make it clear that the name is completely coincidental and the character is fictional and is not based on any real people, living or dead.**

**I imagine that not many would know this but I figured that I'd address it now, in case someone found it out, later down the line. I apologise if this coincidence has caused any offense but I'm somewhat doubtful that anybody picked up on it.**

**Anyway, with that unpleasantness out of the way, here's the newest chapter.**

**This week's chapter focusses on Hamilton again as he returns to Paradise Falls, this chapter focusses entirely on Hamilton as I felt that scenes with Denis in them would break up the flow, so, I'll be adding the Denis scenes to the next chapter, hopefully.**

**Remember to review, if you get the chance, I like being told what my readers think and it really helps the story. Thanks to those who have reviewed, followed and even favourite it, thus far.**

* * *

The door to the overseer's office slowly opened, half of the mechanical door went up and vanished into the ceiling and the other half went into the floor, revealing the way for the intruder to enter.

The escapee, so far, hadn't been spotted but he knew that he didn't have much time; he **had** to hack the terminal in the overseer's office, to access the tunnel, under his desk and make his way to the vault door.

To freedom…

In truth, the intruder was a little nervous about this, the vault was all he knew and he had little to no desire to leave but he **knew** that he had to. He **knew** the sacrifices that had been made, to ensure that he could escape and he knew that there was no going back.

The Vault Dweller rushed over to the terminal, wasting no time as his fingers sprawled out, all over the keyboard and began to type, rapidly. He already knew the password as he had been here before and it wasn't even hard to guess then.

Anyone who used their own daughter's name as their password deserved to be hacked…

The intruder was a little cautious about his attire, though the vault suits were quite restrictive and tight, their age made the material sag a bit and this made them somewhat baggy, making them a liability. The boots also didn't help, they were clunky and sometimes squeak when pressure is applied to them or if the toe kisses the floor. Still, it didn't matter now, the intruder had mastered sneaking around in this suit and these boots and soon it wouldn't be a problem as the sneaking part was over, now to the front door.

He carefully typed the password, into the terminal's keyboard and the screen flickered before changing, opening all sorts of sensitive information.

The Overseer kept all sorts of things on here, vault tech orders, written long ago, by clueless fools who honestly believed that we had hope. However, the thing that caught the intruder's eye was the recognisance reports, it would seem that the overseer, secretive bastard that he was, actually sent some people out, into the wasteland at some point.

From what could be gathered, from the file, their mission was short and rather brutal, apparently, they didn't get far before being scared off, by some giant insects. They had a picture of one of the insects on file and the intruder had never seen anything so… inspiring.

They couldn't imagine what sort of wildlife lingered outside, what sort of people he'd meet in this… 'Megaton,' the first settlement that the people of the vault found. He expected them to be somewhat savage, brutal even, you'd have to be to survive topside. The intruder knew this, all too well, they weren't sure if they could survive on the surface and constantly doubted their own abilities.

No… Knowing what he knew, the vault wasn't safe, he **had** to escape it, he **had** to find a new life for himself, out there on the surface.

It was then that he found it, the release, the switch that activated the overseer's secret passage, out of his office. The intruder didn't hesitate to push it before turning around and seeing it come to life. You would never have guessed, if you didn't know, as it seemed like a static object but the Overseer's desk pulled back, revealing a hole in the floor and a staircase, going down to the depths of the vault.

The intruder immediately ran straight ahead, leaving the terminal logged on and throwing caution to the wind as he descended into the depths of the escape tunnel. He wasn't exactly careless but he knew, that once he left that front door, there would be no consequences for his actions so wasting time, covering his tracks was not only unnecessary but also a risk to his plan. It was there, down in the cold, gun metal grey escape tunnel, that he saw a switch, on the side wall. Without hesitation, he hit the yellow, brick sized box and the light changed from green to red as a rumbling could be heard above. He looked up, to see the ceiling above, slowly closing in and blocking out the light as it left him, alone, in the darkness of the escape tunnel.

There was a brief void of silence and darkness, where the intruder listened out for the overseer or his guards, alas, after nearly a minute of listening, he heard nothing…

Breathing a sigh of relief, the vault dweller brought his pip-boy 3000 up to his face and activated its light, illuminating the entire corridor with a green glow.

He breathed out a heavy sigh as he looked up and saw the grey, metallic hallway ahead. There was something about this place that brought him discomfort, there was no light, no colour on the walls and it was then that he became aware of how he had never experienced this before.

How was it the case, that the room being so… imperfect bothered him, he knew that time was of the essence and that he needed to keep moving but he just… froze…

Was he really **this** reliant on the vault? That he couldn't even handle a different colour of wallpaper to the one that he was used to? That he was uncomfortable… disturbed even, by the dark? Was he ready for the surface?

There was a long pause as the intruder weighed up his options, he wasn't going to lie, that epiphany brought him a great deal of unease but, then again, he had said it himself before.

There was no turning back…

With that thought in mind, he pressed on, albeit reluctantly and wandered his way, into the darkness to find the light of the exit.

* * *

After wandering for some time, they finally found the secret doorway to the vault's entrance and, by pressing a nearly identical switch to the one that had closed the path behind him, he managed to open the way. The Intruder wasted no time as he stepped through the hole in the wall and ran through, to the entrance of the vault. It was there that he saw it, the grand, vault door, a huge cog wheel that was said to be invulnerable, said to be able to withstand the direct assault of a nuclear missile.

He quickly shook off his awe and ran around the console as he began to work on it, he furiously typed in the code to open the door before pulling the small handle, on the far right hand side of the console, back and activated the front door.

To his surprise, an orange light began to whir around and a siren began to bleat, it sounded like the bastard child of a foghorn and an electrical buzzer. Incredibly noisy but brief and on a loop, it's obnoxious sound was almost overwhelming and the flashing lights were almost disorienting. God, it was so noisy, the Intruder wouldn't be surprised if half the vault didn't hear it and the orange glow was starting to mess with his senses.

It was then that he discovered that the door had blown his cover as the door, behind him, clicked and swung open as two, vault security guards, in standard issue Vault 101 riot gear, ran out after him, both of them were with batons but it wouldn't surprise him if they had fire arms on them, just waiting to be drawn.

"Someone's opening the door!" One of the guards observed as he fell through, followed by his comrade.

"Hey, you, **stop!**"

The Intruder had no intentions of heeding their warning, he'd come too far to lose his nerve and surrender now. Part of him wanted to stop and fight the two guards, kill them, send a message to the Overseer but he knew that, that was, on some level, what the Overseer wanted.

Escape would be his victory…

He turned around and made a dash for the exit as one of the guards lunged for the control panel and pulled the switch, closing the vault door. It wasn't over for the Intruder yet as he knew that he had some time before it closed, he picked up his sprint, charging towards the small gap, that was narrowing, with every passing second.

Both he and his pursuers knew that he would make it, which is why the latter drew their guns and began to fire on him.

"Hamilton, freeze!"

They fired, blindly, at him as he sped out, most of the shots completely missed, hitting the vault door. They fired some more and one of the shots bounced off the vault door, inches away from where the Intruder's knee was. This only encouraged the Intruder to pick up the pace, to avoid being killed or crippled by the gunfire. The Intruder narrowly missed the vault door as he ducked under and fled into the unknown of the outside and the door sealed him on the other side.

The Overseer immediately entered behind them, followed by an entourage of two more guards, who stood beside him as he stormed in.

"What the hell is going on out here!?" He blustered, looking up to see the vault door settle down, with some newly added bullet holes in it, along with the nearby walls.

"Sir, it's Hamilton, I don't know how he did it but…

We found him in here, he didn't get past us sir, he must have found another way in, through a vent or something. He's… Out there now, sir."

Overseer Almodovar looked up and narrowed his eyes and his reaction wasn't exactly what they were expecting.

"Good… It's contained then." He concluded, folding his arms and looking to his security officers.

"Alright, I want all evidence that he was ever here expunged! Who else knows about it?"

The two guards looked to eachother and shrugged, they saw no sign of any others working with him…

"As far as we're aware, only five people know about it and they're all in this room."

"Then it is imperative that this night's events **never** leave this room! It's important that we keep this locked down and ensure the vault's security!

You take this night's events to your grave, if I hear **anything** related to this subject, I'll **know** that it came from you four!"

"Yes, sir, understood Sir!" The most senior member of the guard replied, formally, obediently.

"What if someone asks about Hamilton?"

"We'll tell them that he died, we can say that he got lost in the reactors and got himself electrocuted or something. I'll work those details over by tomorrow morning. If anyone asks, tell them that he is dead and that his body was cremated not long after his passing.

Hopefully, that should appease most of citizens. It's not like the rebellious bastard had any friends or anyone of note, who cared about him.

I'd say that we got pretty lucky here but make no mistake, this is **not** acceptable, security needs to be tightened, **anything** could have gotten in or out then, **anything!**"

The guards all nodded, ashamedly.

"Get those bullet holes covered up, hide any spent shell casings, if possible, I don't want anyone knowing that shots were fired. Let's keep this under wraps gents." The Overseer added as he stepped back, getting a nod from his people.

"Understood, Sir!" They replied as Almodovar turned around and slowly wandered back to the Atrium, leaving his guards on clean up duty.

* * *

Hamilton's eyes slowly opened as he came to, he immediately knew, due to the dusty, sandpaper-like thin walls, that he was in a tent. He could feel cool air blowing in through the exposed flap, cooling him down as he began to stir in his sleeping bag.

His eyes slowly glazed over as he began to drift off to sleep again, only for them to shift back open as his eyes darted across the room. There, he saw a brown haired, young woman, in a white lab coat, with dark, horn rimmed glasses.

She sat, observing him from afar and it was obvious to Thomas that she was a doctor and from the looks of her 'office' she was likely a wasteland doctor. Normally, he didn't trust them, they were somewhat lacking in academic qualification and more often than not, lacking in skill, hell, he even gave Cutter a wide birth, when he joined his gang at Paradise Falls.

_Paradise Falls!?_

He quickly tried to sit up and immediately grunted, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, which hadn't fully healed yet. He looked to his wound, to see that it had now been wrapped up, in a bandage, that protected it from further infection.

The Doctor, realising that he'd need some help, got up and wandered over to him, standing by his side, kneeling down beside him.

"How're you feeling?"

Hamilton stopped grunting and seething and slowly turned to her, gazing at her, with his bloodshot eyes, with a look that asked 'are you serious?' However, she was a doctor, so he wouldn't make too much of a fuss…

She was much more appealing to the eye than his **last** doctor…

"Better than before…" Hamilton replied, hoping that, that would satisfy her and that would be the end of it.

"How's the fever?" She asked, gently moving her hand in, towards his forehead, to find it immediately slapped away, by Hamilton's pipboy glove.

"I don't have a fever…" He grumbled, pulling himself upright and realising that he had been stripped of his shirt, jacket and tie as well as his hat.

"Where am I, anyway?"

The Doctor backed away and raised her hands, to show him that she meant no harm, she glanced over to the flap of the tent before gesturing outside.

"Do you feel well enough to go for a walk?" She asked, seeing that he was on his feet.

"I can explain everything as we go."

Hamilton was a little suspicious but he didn't' exactly feel weak. He felt like crap, like he had a cold or something but not especially weak and it was quite clear that this woman was A. a Doctor and B. had just saved his life. If she wanted to kill him, she would have done it, whilst he was asleep, if he was to be enslaved, he would have awoken in the pen and if she wanted to do something else, fucked up to him, then she had, had him unconscious for fuck nows how long.

The Slaver, eventually, nodded and looked around; he saw the other half of his suit, neatly folded on a table, on the far side of the room. He wandered over to it and snatched it up, putting on his white shirt and black suit jacket, both of which had been cleaned, since he fell in them, a few…

It then occurred to him, that he had no idea how much time had passed, he glanced down to his pipboy to verify. According to the device on his arm, he had been out for the best part of two days.

So much for the prodigal son returning.

After adjusting the suit and placing his hat on his head, he nodded to them, indicating that he was ready to walk with her. She gave him a respectful smile and a nod before turning around and leading him outside.

"I am Doctor Cushing, one of the senior Doctors here. You came to our front gate, half dead and delirious from fever, my guards managed to pick you up and bring you to me. You were suffering from a major infection, the wound, on your shoulder wasn't treated properly and it got infected. You were lucky that you made it to us in time, intentional or not."

"Who are you people?" Hamilton asked, he refrained from mentioning his link to Paradise Falls for now, it might just get him a death sentence, from the looks of things, this wasn't Paradise falls.

"We are doctors, farmers, soldiers, mercenaries… We take any and all, who come to our gates, **especially** the sick and injured.

We have a saying here, 'be prepared to receive strangers as they maybe angels in disguise."

_Or Devils…_ Hamilton thought to himself as he looked around, which was more often the case, betrayal was almost inevitable out here. It wasn't a matter of **if** someone would fuck you over, it was a matter of **when.**

He noticed that two, young, children ran past, laughing and giggling as they chased each other through the camp. The Slaver's eyes scanned the area as he noticed some pre-war shops, that had been converted into wards and hostels for any weak parasites that happen to make it here.

_Velma's…_

"This place…" He noted as he began to look around, the layout had changed, considerably but it still managed to look so familiar. It was then that he saw it, the giant, one armed ice cream boy, holding his ice battered cone out, like the statue of liberty or one of those industrial statues, from the old world.

The statue was so close, that it had to be…

"Paradise… Falls?" Thomas asked, unable to quell his tongue in shock, getting the Doctor's attention.

"Paradise…" She corrected him, giving him a smile.

"Paradise 'Falls' no longer."

Hamilton looked to her, like she was mad. What did this mean? Paradise Falls, the strongest Slaver encampment in the Capital Wasteland was now a fucking day-care center? Eulogy would never allow it, so was he dead?

"Wh-What do you mean? What happened to the camp's last inhabitants?" Hamilton asked, quickly turning to her, with a mix of rage and shock on his face.

"You're talking about the slavers?" She asked, her tone was somewhat of a sympathetic one as he noticed how distressed this made him.

"Most, if not all, of them were killed, during the assault. A few of them were said to have survived but not many, those who survived have fled the immediate area and may have done so with some terrible injuries."

Hamilton paused, staring at the ground ahead as he closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh, the Doctor stopped and allowed him to absorb the news.

"Did you… Know anyone here?"

Hamilton looked up, realising that he the shock of discovering the fate of his former comrades had stopped him from regaining control, over his emotions. He slowly looked up to Cushing as he tried to think of an excuse.

"I… Had family here." He replied, it was partly true, which made the lie somewhat easier to tell.

"Oh." She replied, sounding somewhat shocked and saddened to hear that.

"I'm… I'm sorry for your loss.

You… Must have been away for a long time, I can only imagine what this must be like to you."

Hamilton just nodded as he thought about it, a little more before he glanced back to Cushing, staring at her a little longer before he next spoke.

"What happened here?" The Slaver asked, knowing that it must have been something drastic must have happened to bring on such a drastic change. Hell, Eulogy would have died first, at least the Eulogy he knew. Maybe he went mad or got high on so many chems, that he thought that turning the camp into a refugee center was a good idea.

No, Eulogy was dead, either someone soft succeeded him or this place went up against a force, that finally managed to topple it, a revolution amongst the slaves perhaps? Or maybe it was both? Maybe Eulogy's successor failed this place.

The Doctor sighed, knowing that this wasn't going to come easily to him, many could scarcely believe how Paradise Falls fell, to one man.

"Have you heard of the Lone Wanderer?"

Hamilton frowned as he tried to think about it, he **had** heard of that title, as stupid as it was. Like something from one of those cheesy western movies, from before the war, people used to love the Wild West, a time where chaos was the norm and there was no law.

No restrictions…

Hamilton couldn't help but be amused at the fact that he was now living their dream and he'd be lying, if he said that he didn't love it to.

"I've…

No, no I haven't." He admitted, hoping to learn as much as possible.

Doctor Cushing nodded before she escorted him, over to a bench and sat them both down as she looked him in the face. It was quite clear that she was quite empathic and caring, especially towards her patients. Her horned rimmed classes were chipped, on the lens but she had no trouble seeing through them. This was quite common, even among the wealthiest of people in the wasteland, hell, most people were lucky to even have frames.

She placed her hands on her knees, gently rubbing them up and down her thighs as she built up the confidence to tell him.

"Well, the first sighting of him was two years ago…

He was one of two known people, who escaped from Vault 101, I'm… assuming that you know what a vault is." She gestured to Thomas' left arm, which was encased in a Pipboy 3000, a wrist computer that was only available to vault residents.

"Yeah, I've heard of it…" Hamilton whispered, slowly sitting up. So, this 'Lone Wanderer' was a vault 101 resident to? Though he could have speculated about his identity, he believed that he would be **way** off; it could have been any of the residents, Mack, Hannon, James…

It could even be **their** kids, Butch, Amata, Mack or maybe even the Doctor's brat. He didn't really have much to go on…

"Well, quite a lot of people come and go these days, so it's hard to imagine but there was a time where nobody ever entered that vault and nobody ever left.

James, a scientist, was the first person known to leave, though the Lone Wanderer says that there were others before him."

Hamilton nodded, he knew that all too well, it sounded incredibly strange, did the Overseer die? It's only way that he'd allow that door to be opened and it was becoming the most likely scenario, however, Hamilton was a little discouraged, feeling cheated out of his chance of revenge.

He was starting to feel old at this point, Eulogy, Tenpenny, the Slavers, Gustavo, the Overseer. All of his old friends and enemies were now dead and he wasn't even that far into his twenties…

Still, somehow it came as a shock to hear that James, Doctor Perfect, ditched town. Even though he knew that James wasn't officially a vault resident. To be honest, Thomas had no idea how he convinced the Overseer to let him in, stubborn old bastard wouldn't even listen to his own daughter.

It mattered not now as Hamilton picked up on something else…

James and the Lone Wanderer were separate people…

"So, assuming that it's not James… Who's the Lone Wanderer?" He asked, sitting back on his chair, carefully to avoid putting further strain on his shoulder as it had only just settled down.

"James' Son followed him out, a few hours later; he sought him out, across the wastes and the two of them…" She stopped, to correct herself.

"Between them, they changed the fact of DC."

"Wait… James' son is the Lone Wanderer?" Hamilton asked, getting some suspicion from Doctor Cushing.

"Y-Yes… His son, Denis." She confirmed, seemingly distracted by the fact that he spoke of James, like he knew him before. Or at least, that's what his tone suggested…

"Wh-Why, did… You know him before?" The Doctor asked, curiosity getting the better of her, like it does with most scientists.

Hamilton sighed; he'd kind of let the cat out of the bag now, this fever was hindering his concentration.

"I… Yes, vaguely…" Hamilton admitted, though he found it nearly impossible to believe.

Denis was a boy of fourteen, when he knew him, getting his head shoved down a toilet by that little turd, Butch. He was having a hard time picturing him as this 'Lone Wanderer,' massacring slavers. His memories of Denis were vague at best, most of his memories were of Denis as a child, though, then again, someone five years older than Thomas would say the same thing about him…

"So… **You're** from Vault 101 as well?"

"Yes, I was… One of few who managed to escape before James, only two people, who I knew of had managed it." The Slaver replied, slowly watching some missionaries build a tent from afar. The group of three men seemed to be quite well trained as far as erecting tents went, Thomas was kind of jealous as most of the fuckwits, under his command, couldn't find their asses with both hands.

"It sounds strange… Vault Dwellers have been coming and going from that place, for years now. It's hard to imagine a world without them."

"Wh-What?" Thomas asked, slowly sitting up and narrowing his eyes, that was a touch too far for him. Paradise Falls becoming a Missionary medical care camp was digestible, Tenpenny Tower becoming a ghoul haven was also possible but…

Vault 101 opening its doors? Did the overseer die or go mad? Must have, there was no way in hell that he'd open that door and let **anyone** out or in. Though, then again, he **did** let James and his little brat in, maybe he was starting to crack long before Hamilton got out of dodge.

"Fuckin' hell…" The Slaver sighed, breathlessly as he fell back against the bench, Doctor Cushing just stared at him, somewhat on the border between confusion and understanding. She understood that this was all knew to him but she imagined that most of this would bring most people comfort and happiness, Hamilton was acting like his dog had died.

"I know that… You've lost a lot and that things are strange to you but the world's a different place now. A lot of the things that threatened the lives of most of the wasteland's citizens are now… Well, they're gone."

Hamilton scowled as she said that as it was bullshit, slavers, raiders, murderers, cannibals, they don't just 'go.' Their mentality, their beliefs, their drive for power, profit, fornication, flesh or whatever else motivates them doesn't just 'go.' Sometimes, one has more domination over the other but this was only temporary, Evil will always overcome good and vice versa, especially when Hamilton was on the scene.

With Eulogy gone, with Tenpenny gone and fuck knows who else gone with them, it was up to Hamilton to restore Paradise Falls and Tenpenny Tower. Their legacy would become **his** and he'd have to rebuild what his predecessors had allowed to be destroyed, so easily.

There was no man that he couldn't kill, no institution that he couldn't take down. Denis was little more than an obstacle to him and though he would never dream of underestimating a man, who according to Cushing, took down the entirety of Paradise Falls, single handed, he knew that he could be beaten.

It was all about finding his weaknesses…

"You're… Right." Hamilton concluded, slowly looking to the Doctor, meaningfully.

"The world **is** a different place now and… I guess it's up to me to find my place in this new world." The Slaver stood up, seeming far more talkative than he was before as now he was informed…

Mostly…

He had a plan, a goal and an enemy, seemed like things were starting to make sense again, for the first time in a long time.

"That's…" Cushing was a little shocked and if she was honest, a little suspicious but she remained silent and gave him a smile and a nod of praise.

"That's great, I'm glad that you were able to find your feet so easily." She began as she rose to her feet and stepped out in front of him. She looked to her left as she was obviously thinking about something and hesitant to say it.

"Look, I… I **know** how hard it can be, losing family members, not being able to find them…

There's a man, in Rivet City, he owns the gun store there, known as 'Flak and Shrapnel's.' According to the records, that we found on the terminals, he is…

He wasn't here, when the massacre happened but he may have contacts, he may know some survivors or people who may know what became of your family. I know that it isn't much to offer but, it's the best that I can do, I'm afraid." The Doctor replied, with a tone of sympathy and a look to match.

Hamilton nodded, rather pleased with this information as he wouldn't have known otherwise, he imagined that the store owner was 'Flak,' a Paradise Falls traitor, who ditched town, with a boat load of caps and ammo and took shelter, within Rivet City.

Though he may be out of it, as far as current or… 'past' events, as most people probably referred to them as now, go, Flak may have some old contacts, provided that he was willing to cooperate. If Hamilton was forced to kill the traitorous prick, then it wouldn't be a total loss as he would have his guns to collect.

"Thank you, for your care, hospitality and information, it is greatly appreciated." The Slaver replied, seeming genuinely impressed by and even grateful for her kindness, shame that it, she and this whole joke of a camp wouldn't last forever…

"Thank someone for doing their job and it'll go to their head but I appreciate it, non-the-less.

You should be well enough to travel, provided that you ensure that you take these." She informed him, handing him two bottles of pills, one was a strong painkiller and the other was an antibiotic.

"Take the painkillers, the red bottle, if your shoulder starts to flare up and take one of the clear ones a day, until your wound heals properly. If you have any other problems with that wound or you find yourself injured again, hobble on back over here and I can take a look, but just don't let it get **that** bad again."

"Thank you…" Hamilton whispered before sighing and folding his arms.

"I'm afraid that I can't pay you, immediately, if you were expecting me to, then you should have left me to die. I can arrange payment, at a later date, if you need it…"

"N-No, that won't be necessary." Cushing protested, raising her hands to get him to stop.

"We don't charge for essential treatment, though if you do wish to pay for your treatment, we're happy to accept donations, towards our cause."

"Then… How do you stay operational?" The Slaver asked, raising an eyebrow in intrigue as he folded his arms, instantly regretting it as his shoulder began to flare up again.

"Donations, we get them from most of the major cities, Galaxy News Radio often encourages people to donate to us and some of our more wealthy patients are willing to pay for cyber augmentations, such as improved eyesight.

We also charge for dental care and provide an optician's service, neither of these things are essential to stay alive. We hope to make them free one day but we don't have the funds right now."

Hamilton nodded as he looked around, there were few armed guards and the guards that were there were armed with assault rifles, the shitty, American made R91s. Anyone could easily take this place, if they wanted to, he made a note of that as it may come in use, later.

"I… Won't take up any more of your time, thank you, Doctor." The Slaver replied, giving her a respectful nod and a smile as he turned around and began to leave.

"Wait!" Cushing called, taking two steps after him as she stood, with her arms folded, eyes narrowed.

"I never got your name…"

"It's…" Hamilton paused, shit, he should have planned for this. He couldn't use his own name as they might have some record of it, he couldn't use a Slaver's name…

"Mack… Wally Mack…" He replied, though it didn't sound convincing as the name **didn't** suit him. Still, it seemed to work as the woman nodded and gave him a smile.

"Well, it's nice to finally have your acquaintance, Wally." She replied, extending her hand.

"As I said, return to us, if you need anything else."

"I will." Hamilton replied, respectfully, with a smile as he took her hand and shook it before he gave her one last nod and turned away, walking over to the front gate as he made his exit.

"You can count on it…" Hamilton mumbled, bitterly as he walked away, heading straight for Rivet City, so that he could regroup with Flak and hopefully find what remained of his crew.

* * *

**Letter Hacks**

A user was kind enough to leave a review, where they commented on the Thomas/Marcia encounter in Chapter 2 and because they were a guest user, I couldn't directly reply to them. So, I figured that I'd leave this as a disclaimer to respond to their concerns and anyone else who had similar concerns.

The guest user said that they felt that Marcia was a 'stupid character,' because she didn't shoot him, after spending months tracking him down. The point of her going to Thomas **was** to assassinate him; she has him in her sights for some time but finds herself overwhelmed by the morality of taking another person's life.

Taking another's life **is** always difficult, no matter how little value it may have to you, especially if you have convictions, like she did. It was described, in great detail that her own conscience and the rules of her religion haunted her as she held the man in her sights and she was soon overwhelmed by the emotional stress of it and broke down in front of him.

Was this stupid of her? Yes but bear in mind that emotion and logic are two different things, when we're at the height of our emotions we don't always do what's logical, especially when we're faced with something as difficult as taking another person's life.

Yes it wasn't a smart thing to do and yes she probably **should** have shot him but when push came to shove, she found herself to be crippled by guilt and fear and therefore couldn't do it. On this basis, I don't believe that a rewrite is necessary, because it wasn't out of character to spare him and it didn't exactly come out of nowhere as there was plenty of build up before she gave up her gun.

Still, this was of some comfort to me, knowing that there are some people, who are somewhat invested in this story.

So thanks for your comment and I'll see y'all next week. J


	7. Home

**A:N/ Another week, another chapter.**

**This week's chapter focusses on both of our protagonists and our budding third protagonist as Hamilton continues his search for answers and Denis continues to play 'nurse' for Jynx, who is desperate to get out of Denis' shadow and prove herself.**

**Enjoy and remember to review, all reviews help the story in their own way, remember to check the bottom of the page for Letter Hacks (review responses and trivia).**

* * *

It wasn't until late afternoon that Hamilton reached Rivet City, yet he was still impressed with how quickly he had managed to travel from Paradise Falls. He had met little resistance on the road, besides the occasional wild animal but even they were somewhat easy to dispatch and actually livened up an otherwise uneventful journey.

Hamilton had managed to find some rounds for his Colt 1911, in the tower's armoury, once a single clip would make him feel like his situation was a little precarious, it wouldn't have even got him to Big Town, back in the day but now he'd made it to Rivet City, still with half a clip to spare.

The Slaver was delayed a little, when he saw a large amount of activity by the Jefferson Memorial, caravans seemed to be passing through that area and heading straight to Rivet City and other places, presumably Megaton as well. He paid the site a quick visit and found that it was the central bottling operation for 'Aqua Pura,' also known as Project Purity.

Apparently, the Brotherhood of Steel had erected a gargantuan water purifier and were giving drums of the stuff away for free. Hamilton had no idea why they didn't just sell the water or even better, make people work for it, make it addictive and charge more for it, to keep people coming back.

So many possibilities…

The slaver cared not though, as this didn't change his current objective, he needed to find Flak, of Rivet City and get some answers out of him. He only hoped that Flak wouldn't try to fob him off, even if he did, Hamilton could be very… persuasive, if he got his hands on a pair of pliers or some shards of glass…

He wandered up the tower, keeping his eyes fixed on the giant aircraft carrier, opposite him as he reached the top. From the looks of things, it hadn't changed much but he got the feeling that, it would most likely have changed on the inside…

He wandered up to the intercom and pushed the small, black button, underneath the speaker, it buzzed, like every fucking thing does in this place and he was left hanging, until someone picked it up.

"Welcome to Rivet City, state your business."

Hamilton glanced to the speaker, his business was none of this prick's concern but unless the Slaver planned to grow wings and fly across the river, he wasn't going to get across until he shared it.

"I'm looking for Flak… Older guy, bald, stupid moustache, owns a store, I believe."

The speaker cut off as the voice went to check with someone, most likely a superior officer. Hamilton could see something on the horizon, two black armoured guards, talking among themselves. Eventually, the closest one to the speaker went back over to it and hit the button.

"Yeah, you're clear to enter, just don't cause any trouble."

"Who, me?" Thomas smirked as the voice cut out, listening to the loud creak of the bridge as it extended across the rover and met with the tower, stopping at his feet. The Slaver slowly raised his foot and placed it on the walkway as he made his way across, hands in the pockets of his suit, fingers wrapped around the hilt and trigger of the pistols in his pocket.

He had an assault rifle, strapped to his back but he always preferred handguns, much easier to conceal and more fun to shoot with. They were also far more reliable and accurate than the piece of American made dog shit that he had clinging to his back.

Speaking of dog shit…

"If you have business in Rivet City, I'd suggest that you see to it, you're free to wander around the non-restricted areas but know that I have eyes everywhere in here, so don't try anything…" The Captain warned him, with about as much impact as a small child threatening a Talon Company Merc.

"Cause **any** trouble and you'll end up in the river."

Hamilton didn't even dignify the fool with a response and stepped into the door conveniently marked 'Market.'

Flak had better be here, traitorous fuck…

* * *

It had been a few days since Jynx awoke and Denis had practically been glued to her side since, she told him of her adventure, leaving home to try and make her fortune.

Though he was incredibly sceptical at first, he found himself to be a little more understanding, once she told him her plan. She had hoped to travel from settlement to settlement, selling spare parts. It was amazing how many times places like Arefu needed fission batteries and Sensors and other random pieces of junk.

Apparently, she's from Big Town, Denis should have guessed that with a name like hers, he spotted Machete's nickname in Canterbury Commons…

The girl wasn't very talkative the first day, so they mostly sat in silence, second day she was quiet in the morning and incredibly chatty in the afternoon and now she was spewing her guts out, just happy to be talking to someone. Denis didn't leave until quite late, not that he minded, she was rather fun to talk to, upbeat and cheerful and incredibly enthusiastic. He almost felt bad about leaving but he then realised that it was getting late and that they'd both need their sleep.

Denis returned, early morning, he brought some breakfast for the girl, some squirrel chunks on a stick. She'd never eaten squirrel, until yesterday, she was always put off by the idea of eating a small rat-like creature as she imagined that it tasted rather nasty. However, to her surprise, it was actually rather good. Denis promised to bring her some for breakfast today and so he did.

"Here, fresh off the grill, should be just right for eating." He told her, with a smile as he took a seat opposite and opened a box of cram.

The scavenger took it, gracefully and gave him a smile before taking her first bite, he wasn't kidding, it was perfect for eating. She continued to help herself to more…

"Mmm… You were right, this **is** good." She said, with her mouth full, making Denis chuckle as he helped himself to more food. He was supposed to be eating properly, proper meals and that but he was told that he technically didn't even have to be here anymore.

Still, he was enjoying his time with Jynx, he was her only visitor and he felt kind of mean, abandoning the poor kid, in a strange town before she'd fully recovered. He wondered where she was earlier that week as he could have used her then.

"So, how do you feel today?" He asked, leaning back with a grin as he put his feet on a nearby crate, using it as a footstool.

The girl just shrugged, giving him a smile as he got comfortable, she waited until she'd swallowed her last bite before answering.

"G-Good, my stomach barely hurts now." She grinned, pulling her bedding back and taking a look, it was definitely improved over the other day, there was only a faint lingering of yellow at this point. She then covered herself up again and lay down, looking over to Denis, and giving him a troubled smile.

"To be honest, I'm bored of lying around…"

"Heh, I was like that, last week." The Regulator replied, sitting back in his chair and placing a foot over his knee as he brought his hands together.

"I was shot to but… I wasn't lucky enough to be wearing metal armour." He informed her, getting a wince from his, now, kindred spirit.

"Ouch… How'd that happen?"

"Raider, bullet went clean through and it didn't hit anything vital, still I was lucky, I barely got back here before collapsing." He then scratched his head and looked away, awkwardly.

"I was under house arrest, until I healed. It was kind of fun at first, since I've never been under house arrest but it got old, real quick." He added as the door opened and Doc Church stepped in.

"Hourse arrest? Is that what you call it?" The Doctor snorted, walking over to Jynx's bed and gesturing for her to pull her sheet back.

"Don't let this boy fool you, he's an idiot. Worse, he's an idiot, who thinks he knows better than a Doctor who has more experience than he does years." He said, turning back to Denis and giving him a smirk, one that Denis returned. Church liked to give everyone shit and Denis couldn't lie, he kind of enjoyed it himself sometimes, so the two of them had a sort of rivalry, that they mostly kept up in front of others.

"Oh Doc, so unoriginal, you practically repeated Overseer Almodovar's file on me to the word…"

Jynx remained silent as she pulled her covers back, revealing the injury, the Doctor examined it before standing up and placing his hand on Jynx's shoulder.

"Well, good news little lady, you're going to be able to walk out of here by sundown and I'll have a bed free." Doc Church informed her as he made a note on his 'chart.'

"Oh? That's… Great." Jynx replied, not sounding remotely convincing, she didn't want to seem ungrateful but she'd had everything in this bed, food, water, shelter, a **bed**. She knew that she'd have to go back on the road, after this and short of getting shot and surviving it again on the outskirts of this town, there was no way that she could get herself in a situation as good as this one again…

"Erm… I don't really know how to thank you… Or… Pay you…" She muttered, swallowing as she said so. She knew the deal, this was the wasteland, nothing was free and those without money had to find other ways of paying.

"That's okay, Denis took care of that, when he brought you in." Doc Church mumbled as he filled in the chart, getting Jynx to look over to Denis, now she really **was** suspicious.

"W-What? Why would you do that?"

The Regulator shrugged before leaning back and rubbing his eye with his right index finger and grinning as he refrained from laughing.

"I've just got more money than sense." He shrugged, though this was actually quite true, Denis had amassed a ridiculous sum over the years, he scavenged ammo in the wastes and only ever paid for repairs. If his common weapons, like his Chinese Assault rifle, broke then he would just simply throw them away and take another one or buy one, if he saw one cheap enough.

Denis didn't drink or insist on hiring 'company,' so he had stashed quite a lot of caps over the years, of course, he kept this quiet, not wanting to earn himself any trouble or end up robbed for his money. Many assumed that he paid through his nose to keep his weapons and armour upgraded, thus making him near penniless. A rumor that he 'confirmed' as often as possible, for his own safety.

"So, where will you head to next?" He asked, curiously as he tried to move on and avoid discussing his finances.

"Erm… I was thinking Rivet City?" Jynx said, scratching her head.

"I was hoping to stock up on parts, maybe do some repairs for caps." She leaned back and folded her arms, staring at her feet.

"Either that or I could go and look for some old toasters to fix, they often contain all sorts of weird things in them."

"Toasters?"

"Y-Yeah, not those… Small ones, I mean the big ones, the old bulkier ones? I once found a magazine in one once, I didn't think that I'd get much for it, because it was about cats and a lot of the pages were stuck together but still, I managed to get quite a lot for it."

Denis had some idea of what magazine she was talking about and shuddered to think why the pages were stuck together but he decided to avoid speculating, for both of their sakes.

"Yeah… I imagine that Flak and Shrapnel will have a few some spare parts, since its part of their job to fix things. Of course, there's also Moira, here, she could help you."

"Moira?"

"Yeah… She owns Craterside Supply? It's… Well, literally above us." The Lone Wanderer smirked, folding his arms and glancing upwards.

"She could sell you some spare parts."

"Oh, erm… I well I don't really have any money, hence why I said that I'd make my money, doing repairs." Jynx explained, with a weary sigh, she wondered how some people ended up with so much money.

Was there some sort of a trick to it or was it just luck? She had no idea…

"Oh, well…" Denis paused, in all honesty, he practically envied her, he missed the days where his eyes were still adjusting to the bright sun above. He often had dreams of falling upwards, into the huge void that was the sky, that plagued him for months after but most of all, he missed having nothing, every enemy was a challenge, every day was an adventure, every day could be his last and now…

Now things were routine, nothing really surprised him anymore, nothing really excited him, not to the extent that he was **really** excited and he mostly just went around, helping whoever he came across to keep himself stimulated.

"Erm… Well, I could get you some of your basic components, to help start you off…" Denis suggested, he didn't know how she'd take this as a lot of people often grew suspicious and were even afraid of him, when he tried to help them.

"N-No, I… I can't let you, you've… already done me enough favors, I… I don't want to be in someone else's pocket, you know?"

Denis nodded, understanding perfectly, if anything he was kind of hoping that she'd say that as it meant that she was serious about making her own way in the world.

"Well… Now that I think about it, Gareth's leading out a Scavenger group, which will be scaving the metro tunnels for supplies. If you want, I could talk to him about taking you to Rivet City, since if you're going, you might as well get paid for it, right?"

Jynx paused to think about it before nodding, she slowly pulled the sheet on her bed back and swung her legs over the side, hopping down. She felt uneasy, like her stomach was being held together with duct tape, it tingled with a sensation that was one up above pain, whenever she moved, so she knew that she'd have to be careful.

"Al-Alright… I've been in a metro tunnel before." The girl recalled, though she didn't seem very happy about being reminded of it, it was a… harrowing experience to say the least. It was obvious, even to Denis, that she had no desire to set foot in such a place, ever again.

"We patched your armour up and I unjammed your pistol, I can give you a hunting rifle, if you want some extra fire power." Denis offered, looking around the room, with his arms folded, earning himself a concerned frown.

"N-No… Thanks…" She muttered, brought into a state of unease by the Regulator's charitable nature. She glanced up at him, to see that he nodded respectfully, turning around and heading towards the door.

"If you change your mind, just tell me, I have a whole closet full of old hunting rifles that I'm desperate to get rid of. You'd be doing me a favour by taking one, to be honest…" He informed her as he pushed the handle down and opened the door, looking away as the former Lamplighter got dressed into her metal armour.

"Thanks, seriously I…" Jynx ran over to Denis and looked up to him, looking incredibly concerned at this point.

"I'm not sure if you're being kind or brilliantly evil but… Thanks, for everything…

I owe you a lot, I **know** that."

The Lone Wanderer smiled and pulled the door open a lot wider, to avoid the risk of her accidentally walking into the doorway, judging by her name, this was likely going to be the case.

"You don't owe me anything…" He said, with a warm smile as they stepped out, into Doc Church's lobby.

"Couldn't leave you out there, not in your condition. Besides, I was er… 'bed ridden' to, so it's no trouble."

Jynx gave him a smile and a slight laugh as she thought on it for a moment before hugging him. He was considerably taller than her, so her face was practically buried in his chest. Denis felt a little awkward, he didn't like to be fussed over, it was almost demeaning for him, like they were implying that he found that doing the right thing was difficult. Still, he knew that, that wasn't Jynx's intention and returned the embrace, by wrapping his arm around her back, holding her shoulder.

She held it for a brief moment before stepping back, giving him one more smile and then walking out, leaving the Regulator alone, with his thoughts.

* * *

Hamilton opened the large, steel door, by turning the wheel at the center and gave it a good push as it pried open before he noticed that it opened out onto a small stairway, which he used to descend into the Market district of the ship. He was overwhelmed by the smell of radroach meat, cooking on the grill at Gary's Galley.

As the Slaver climbed down the stairway, he used his eyes and ears to try and find Flak, he looked to his left and saw Potomac Attire, the sight of which made him shake his head and smirk. There was never a shortage of queers who sold impractical status symbol clothes and there was never a shortage of dick heads who were willing to pay for them. Of course, he wasn't one of those 'dick heads' as he found his suit in a hotel, several years ago.

Next to him was a chemist, owned by an African American woman and her pale looking douche bag husband, who were both arguing about something, leaving their inventory on display as they turned their backs on it. Hamilton took note of it, he didn't want to risk getting caught for a few medical supplies that he didn't even need or even want.

He turned to his left and immediately saw it, his target, 'Flak and Shrapnel.' Mother of Mercy, was that a name, it was like one of those duos on the radio, 'the adventures of Flak and Shrapnel, partners in sodomy.'

It was there that he saw the traitorous slaver, in his Merc Troublemaker vest, with an intense handlebar moustache and a shaved head. The two of them were serving some kid, who didn't look like he possessed the caps to purchase and maintain a firearm or the scrote to fire one. Hamilton observed from afar, hoping that he wouldn't be recognized…

It didn't take them long to get rid of the little brat, allowing Hamilton to wander over to the stand, with his arms folded, his narrow eyes fixated on the traitor, who had turned away and was doing something, possibly a stock count or counting his daily claim.

"Ah, haven't seen you before." The other one said, appearing from nowhere and getting in Thomas' face.

"I'm Shrapnel, of Flak and Shrapnel's, if you want to arm yourself with something that isn't an over glorified BB gun, you're best coming to us.

Now then, what can I get you?"

"Your whore…" Hamilton muttered, he noticed that Flak's head raised as he began to recognize Hamilton's voice, it was like he was frozen on the spot…

"Excuse me?"

"I'm here for Flak…"

"Oh? Well, you should've said… Flak, there's a customer for you."

Flak panted heavily as he turned around, his face was incredibly pale, the lights on the ceiling reflected in the sweat on his brow and his eyes trembled in their sockets.

"You…?" He asked, slowly turning around as Thomas invited himself into Flak's shop, the former Slaver showed a side of himself that Shrapnel had never seen before.

Fear…

"Yes…" Hamilton replied, staring the cowering traitor down, practically seething at him.

"Me…"

"Shit…" Flak whispered before turning to Shrapnel, it was obvious that this wasn't going to be good, even with Eulogy dead, the threat of Paradise Falls was very much alive as long as Hamilton drew breath. Flak knew that he was on their shit list but he'd never thought that he'd be at the number one slot.

"Shrapnel, deal with the customers…" The former Raider nodded, seeing the gravity of the situation as he went to the front of the shop and got himself ready to ambush any potential customers as Flak and the stranger discussed business.

"I was certain that you'd be rotting in a ditch, half way to the common wealth by now. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Aww… I didn't know you cared 'Flak." Hamilton mocked, obviously that wasn't his name at Paradise Falls, though he wasn't worthy of that name anymore. Flak was a more fitting name for a dog anyway...

"I had it, on good authority, that I'd find you here and here you are… I also have it, on good authority, that **you'd** be able to tell me where the others were."

Flak looked incredibly confused, who told him? It wasn't exactly a secret, everyone who'd been to Rivet City knew of Flak and Shrapnel but…

Few knew of his past, their pasts…

"Oh? And who's 'authority' did you get that from?"

"Some bitch who's squatting in my pad…" Hamilton grumbled, looking around at the shoddy merchandise, weapons that looked like they would likely explode in your hands if fired.

"She was right about this place though… About you being here, so I'm assuming that she's going to be right about you knowing where the others are."

Flak just stared at him, though it was obvious, even to Hamilton, that he was completely oblivious to the other slavers. That was almost completely believable to, since Flak sold them out years ago and appears to have settled down here. Anyone with any sense would keep their head down, after skipping town on Paradise Falls.

"L-Look… I don't know what **anyone's** said to you but… I left that shit behind me, I had nothing to do with the massacre or… **anything**. There was a Slaver here, Sister but he… turned up dead, we have a couple of escaped slaves in the hold but aside from that? Nothing…

No survivors, the Regulators cleaned that place out."

Hamilton hissed, damn cowboys had always lived as an annoyance for him, even back in the day, they'd crawl out of the gutter, just to hinder him. He was amazed that nobody ever looked into wiping them off the face of the earth…

The Slaver had no choice but to believe him, well, he had several choices really, like putting his head into the vice and slowly sawing through his neck, to punish him for not being helpful enough but… Flak had no real reason to lie to him, especially when telling Hamilton the truth would get rid of him faster as Queen Flak **did** look like he was going to hose his pants.

The Slaver just scowled and shook his head, barging past Shrapnel as he left the squalor of Rivet City's market place behind. His eyes darted around the room as he made his way back to the staircase and began his ascent, heading straight up, towards the bridge.

He needed a drink…

* * *

Jynx stepped out of Craterside supply, Denis' rifle was slung over her shoulder, with a full clip, she had enough ammo for two more clips in her pockets, along with two 10mm pistol clips. She'd brought some med-x and a frag grenade from the store, she doubted that it would be of any use but she could always sell it on the other side.

She didn't get far before she was intercepted by a man, with dark brown hair, stubble and wispy hairs on his chin. The man wore leather armour and was also carrying a hunting rifle on his back. He looked like he was expecting her…

"Jynx?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm Gareth, I lead the scout team…

Denis said that you wanted to come with us, when we next go out?"

The Lamplighter nodded, enthusiastically as she stepped forward and looked him in the face, he, like most people was considerably taller than her.

"Great, you look like you're well equipped, just do as I say and stay close and this should be easy." The Scavenger briefed her before looking over to the gate and gesturing to it.

"We'll be heading out soon, so you should head over to the gate as soon as you can, the boys don't like to be kept waiting."

Jynx gave him a respectful nod before turning towards the gate and glancing back to him.

"Thanks, Sir… For taking me with you, I won't let you down."

"I know." He replied, confidently before looking on over towards the gate, nodding towards it again, to give her the incentive to get moving. It worked as the girl descended down the ramp and approached the gates, seeing several Megaton Settlers, who were waiting for her and Gareth, so that they may commence their journey.

As the girl approached, she found herself giving them a nervous smile and a nod, which they barely acknowledged, she decided to keep quiet and took a seat on the floor, her gut flared up as she moved it, prompting her to sigh, heavily.

She waited for some time for Gareth, they all did and the Settlers were growing impatient, Jynx on the other hand had a lot on her mind. She wasn't stressed, per say but she did feel as if she had a lot to think on. Getting shot, meeting Denis and now she was doing this, it was all so exciting, far more so than her last few weeks of travelling.

She was almost tempted to stay but decided against it, she had taken enough advantage of Denis' hospitality and she got the feeling that he was only being nice to her, because he was afraid that she'd go back to Big Town and come back with an army of shotgun toting hoodlums.

"S'cuse me, miss?" A voice called, it wasn't one of the men, too polite and weak. It was also coming from the wrong direction, which prompted her to look over to see a familiar boy, who was just younger than her, wearing a blue coat and carrying a familiar looking hunting rifle, her gut hurt in recognition as she saw it.

It took a minute for her to realize but she eventually saw it, it was **him**, the Deputy that shot her. He stood before her, looking incredibly nervous, like he was about to try and invite her to go with him, to a dance or something.

"Oh, hey there! You're the Deputy, right?"

"Y-Yeah, Miss, I'm Hardin… Hardin Simms."

Jynx chuckled at his formal response, quickly glancing over her shoulder before standing up and approaching him.

"I'm Jynx, you don't need to be so formal Hardin." She smiled, respectfully, oddly enough, the sight of a child playing 'law man' wasn't that peculiar to her, it felt more right than anything else.

"S-Sorry, M- Jynx." Hardin replied, he was incredibly nervous, the fact that she was taking this so well was getting to him more than anything else…

"H-How is it? Your wound?"

"Oh, that? It's okay, it's left one hell of an ugly bruise but… my armour took the worst of the damage and the Sheriff had that taken care of, so everything's cool." She beamed, much to Hardin's annoyance as he hated it when people referred to Denis as 'the Sheriff.' They had a real Sheriff once and that grinning prick got him killed and put that drunken asshole, Jericho, in charge.

It wouldn't be long now before he retook his rightful place of Sheriff of this town…

"That's… Great." He said, nervously as he realized that he fell silent.

"Oh? Me getting gut punched is 'great' is it?" Jynx teased, folding her arms as she continued her façade of mock annoyance. This, of course, threw Hardin, who shook his head and brought his hands up.

"N-No, I didn't mean that, I meant that it's good that you're okay!" He pleaded, trying to defuse the situation like a bomb disposal apprentice, who was trying to hide the fact that he hadn't studied as he disarmed a nuclear bomb. This of course got Jynx to chuckle again, giving him a smile as she relaxed again.

"I know…" She sighed, he was too easy, it was actually rather endearing.

"I… I am sorry for shooting you though, I… panicked and…" Hardin was cut off as she cut right through his babbling by raising her hand.

"It's fine, you were just protecting the town and no harm was done, right?" She asked before looking down to her stomach and wincing.

"Not… Much at least…"

Hardin gave her a smile and glanced up, keeping his eyes fixed on her as he nodded, it came as a relief that she understood. It was then that Gareth's shadow loomed over them, the Scav team leader gave her a grin before folding his arms.

"You two love birds done?" He asked, hoping to rustle some feathers, he smirked as he saw their indignant reactions.

The girl smirk, pretending to be annoyed by his intrusion, rather than his comment.

"No, I was about to confess my undying love for the dashing Deputy, 'till you blundered in and ruined it."

This got a chuckle from Gareth and a frown from Hardin, he was never one for jokes or light heartedness even before his Father died, he was always reserved and serious in tone.

"Heh, I wouldn't talk like that Sister, you'll make Maggie jealous." The Scav leader mocked, playing along as Hardin grew more and more irritated.

"What!?" The Lamplighter gasped, looking to Hardin with a smirk on her face.

"And here I thought that what we had was special."

Gareth couldn't help but laugh again as Hardin failed to hide the fact that he found this to be annoying and unsettling, to say the least…

"Er… Well, we should probably get out of here before the Deputy's admirers come to claw your eyes out and the boys come out to claw mine."

Jynx nodded, looking back to the Casanova figure, returning to her usual, respectful smile, giving him a brief nod.

"It was nice meeting you Hardin… Erm… Well, you know, first time doesn't count, right?"

Hardin nodded, looking incredibly tired and unnerved by her friendly, informal nature, still he played along.

"R-Right, good luck on your trip… I hope you find what you're looking for in Rivet City."

Jynx gave him a nod and a smile before turning back to Gareth and following him out, Hardin watched as the large gates opened and the rest of the scav team got up to join the latecomers, grabbing their weapons and beginning their journey to Rivet City.

The Lamplighter watched as the gates opened up before her, prompting her to smile as she saw the Wasteland again as she found herself eager to set out.

It was time to make a name for herself…

* * *

The Muddy Rudder…

Hamilton only had to take one look at this place to realize how it got its name, the place was a shit hole. Plenty of depressed customers littered the tables, arms folded on the tables, with her heads hanging in shame as they closed their eyes to shut the world out. A tired hag, in a bandanna, worked the bar, looking like she was old enough to be keeling over soon.

Around the room there were several drinkers, it was midafternoon, so only the truly desolate customers.

Like himself…

The Slaver wandered into the tavern, finding himself under the watchful eye of Brock, a powerhouse of a man, who looked like he could knock most of the riff raff here on their asses, with one punch. Of course, Hamilton knew that he was just muscle, he wouldn't last five minutes in a fight with him.

He immediately went over to the bar and rested his arm on it, awaiting Belle Bonny to come and serve him, she was quick to see him and slowly wandered over, cleaning a glass with a rage that looked like it made anything it touched more dirty.

"Poison?"

"Vodka, hold the ice." Hamilton said, in a rather raspy voice, getting a disapproving frown from the bartender.

"Funny…" She muttered, with bitter sarcasm as she poured him the drink and slid it across the table, prompting him to reach into his pockets and drew some caps and placed them, in a large cluster on the counter. The Barmaid whipped them off and walked away with them, leaving Hamilton to his swill…

The Slaver wrapped his hand around the glass and slowly lifted it to his mouth, starting the first step on a long road to forgetting his troubles. However, his 'journey' was cut short as the glass hadn't even reached his lips before someone spoke to him.

"Good Lord!" A loud voice said, it was… familiar, female, playful… he knew it well…

"How the mighty have fallen."

Thomas slowly lowered his glass to the table and slowly turned around, to see a girl there, in Merc Adventurer armour. Her head was slightly shaved through the middle, so it mostly hung on one side, she stood with her arms folded and cocked her hip as she caught his eye, a smirk plastered to her face.

"It's good to see you again, Lover."

* * *

**Letter Hacks**

My guest reviewer responded to last week's letter hack in their next review and expressed their concerns about the story and what I plan to do next.

I don't really intend to be direct correspondence, so I'm going to try and lay as many concerns to rest as possible, by giving the best answer I can to express my intent.

The first thing that is said is that their problem wasn't so much with it being out of character but rather that Marcia's weakness was a stupid move on her part. As I said last week, Marcia giving Hamilton her gun was an emotional response, not a calculated move.

Though it isn't, as you quite rightly said, common sense, it was intentional that she did something so stupid, because her emotions and mental confliction got the better of her. Not everyone would do things as you would do them and during times of immense pressure and stress, common sense is quite often the first thing to go out of the window.

I've never defended the actions of a character or claimed that they're right, simply, because they're characters, with their own ideas, thoughts, feelings and morals. Not everyone thinks and acts the same, if they did, the world would be very boring place.

As far as Hamilton/Denis rivalry goes, I can assure you that neither of them are 'OP.' Denis is considerably balanced, compared to the Lone Wanderer template and only has high skills in small arms, science and speech. Hamilton has skills in small arms, unarmed and melee, along with a great deal of competence as far as speech goes. Denis is more intelligent than him but Hamilton has the upper hand when it comes to combat, especially if Denis wasn't armed with a small arm.

Hamilton **has** to rival Denis in skill and ability for him to be effective, their relationship is similar to that of Holmes and Moriarty or The Doctor and The Master, he's essentially the Lone Wanderer's rival, so obviously he **is** meant to be evil, though it's up to the reader as to whether or not he's likable.

Thanks for reviewing, I hope that I was able to put your concerns to rest and have hopefully kept you on board for the rest of this saga. :)

See y'all next week.


	8. Enroachment

**N:A/ I've been really depressed and didn't feel like writing, may have gotten back into the swing of things, maybe not. I decided to skip past a certain part of the story, since I felt like things were getting incredibly bogged down, by exposition and I felt like something should happen for once. I will address the important parts of the skipped chapter between this chapter and the next chapter. I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while, for reasons that should become quite obvious at some point or another.**

The front doors to Tenpenny Tower's lobby were swiftly opened with the force of Hamilton's shoe as the Slaver opened the way for his guests. Hamilton's fears of returning empty handed were put to rest, when he saw how connected his former lover, Clover, was. It seemed that most of the slavers from his day had long since bitten it, if they weren't shot in Paradise Falls, they were hunted down by other Regulators, not long after or ended up ODing on Viagra or whatever pitiable end fate would inflict on them.

Clover said that it was impossible to operate slave rinks these days, even small brackets were quickly stomped out by the tight, iron fist of the Regulators. From the looks of things, these guys weren't the worst he'd ever encountered, some of them looked quite capable and only a few looked inbred. The fact that they were still alive today proved that they must be pretty decent at something or else those Clint Eastwood wannabes would have put them down and Clover wouldn't dare bring him garbage, unless there was nothing better available.

"Alright, this is Tenpenny Tower…" Thomas began, disinterestedly as his congregation gathered round.

"Familiarise yourself with it, because I'll be fucked if I'm going to drag your dumb asses around this place, pointing out the obvious. Now, the only rooms that you need to worry about are the lounge, the clothing store, the diner, the 'boutique' and the upstairs, which contains most of our standard accommodation residencies." Hamilton paused as he let that sink in as the gormless hirelings stared, slack jawed at the chandelier, that floated above their heads, casting light down on their dim faces.

"Now, let me get a few things straight, off the bat. Firstly, you don't get the rooms, as far as I'm concerned, you don't even need to be in them to begin with. Every room in this shit hole is a potentially large cash injection a week and I don't want you fuck wits fucking it up by putting your oily, shit stained boots on the bed sheets and resting your greasy hair on the pillows.

You following me so far?"

The group nodded, though, from the looks of it, the biker types at the back were getting restless and bored, Hamilton knew that he'd have to wrap things up, if he wanted to avoid a riot.

"Right, you all sleep **outside** in the guard compound. You don't have to wear the uniform, you'll be glad to know and you also won't have to worry about food, since the pantry is pretty well stocked, provided that no one takes it upon themselves to devour everything in there. Of course, we might see a huge increase in stock, if any of you pricks are caught stealing…" Hamilton let that hang for a moment as he turned around, hopping over the hotel desk as he wandered straight back over to the elevator.

"Clover will assign you positions, since she knows you the best, she'll know where to put you all."

"What!?" Clover snapped, rather indignantly as the thought of responsibility made her skin crawl.

"You can't be seri…" The bodyguard's protests were cut off as her employer slowly turned around to face her, a cold look in his eye as it fell on her. The glare definitely made her shiver, that cold, lifeless, hungry look would do that to anyone. It wasn't a look designed to scare you into submission but a look that challenged you to keep going, so that the slaver could have the satisfaction of teaching you the error of your ways, normally with something blunt to the teeth or by shoving a thumb into your eye socket.

"Is there a problem?"

Clover fell silent as she remembered her place, her eyes rolled to the side and fell to the floor, like she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar and risked having it cut off.

"No… Lover…"

"Good." Hamilton replied, practically spitting the word out like the bitterness of his tone was poisoning his mouth.

"Then I'll see you at five…" He added, stepping into the lift as he pushed the button to the top floor, turning back to Clover and glaring at her as the door shut, separating them both and saving her from that terrible glare…

Despite being threatened and burdened with a task that she despised, Clover couldn't help but smile…

He was back…

It had been a long week for Hamilton, most of which had involved a lot of walking, shooting, getting shot at, getting shot and devastating revelations. He decided to take a few hours to relax, in his room, with a glass of whiskey on a comfortable arm chair as he contemplated his next move.

Knowing what he did about the current state of things, the three biggest threats to his operation were the Brotherhood of Steel, the Regulators and this 'Denis' man.

Hamilton didn't fear Brotherhood intervention, since there'd have to be good quality tech in it for them for them to agree to assault Tenpenny tower. So that just left the Regulators and The Lone Wanderer…

Regulators, thanks to their lack of armour were easy to kill but they were organised and an army of them could quite easily unleash an assault on the tower. Considering that their leader couldn't even run a bath, Hamilton was sure that he could survive it but then again, his men weren't him and he would more than likely have to abandon the tower.

He was torn between going down the offensive route or the defensive one, the problem was that he didn't know if word of his exploits had reached the Regulators or this Denis guy yet. Three Dog would likely spread the 'good word' across the wasteland but his eyes and ears only went so far and the smug bastard usually had a delay of a few days before he reported on things…

Usually…

He had a few days to act, coming out of nowhere and destroying either the refugee camp or that shack in the ass end of nowhere, where Sonora Cruz sat, scared shitless, surrounded by her shit kicking cowboy friends. The Regulators had a great deal of hardware but killing Sonora might only add to his problems, since they only keep a few of them cooped up in that shack and killing them might make him public enemy #1 in their eyes, if he wasn't already…

No, Paradise Falls would be the better place to take first, the pitiable guards wouldn't stand a chance against a group of guys in armour, with Chinese assault rifles and it would make a great, easily defendable base of operations, where Hamilton could get some more income from selling slaves.

The Slaver had come to his decision, he'd take a team to Paradise Falls, first thing in the morning and clear it out. It would eat up most of their ammo and supplies but that place was a damn gold mine. They'd make three times what they'd have to invest in order to clear out the infestation…

Thomas slowly raised the glass of whiskey to his lips, digging the rim of it into the rough surface of the bottom on as he slowly tipped the glass back and finished off his drink, the strong drink rolled off of his tongue and splashes against the surface of the back of his throat, burning it like a fire of passion or hatred.

It was just as he had consumed the last drop that he heard something, out on the hallway, a single shriek or more of a heave, one single sound that registered as being not quite right…

The… thing on the landing continued to gargle, only once though, a long, drawn out cry that echoed throughout the desolate building and then fell completely silent, followed by a series of quieting bare footed steps.

Then nothing…

"Was Sir expecting visitors?" Godfrey asked, floating at the far corner of the room, drowning out the subtle sounds with his thunderous thrusters that kept him afloat.

"No but he is now…" Hamilton muttered, getting up and reaching over to his wardrobe, which he swiftly flung open and quickly realised that his weapons had long since been picked clean.

"Fuck, they took **those** of course…" Hamilton grumbled, wondering if it was the ghoul that took them or Gustavo. It then occurred to him that his suits hadn't been thrown away, though he tried not to think about the possibility of the zombie squatter, who lived here burying himself in one of them.

He reached around to his back and felt the back of his pants for his trusty Colt 1911, which he quickly grabbed. Five rounds was enough to deal with any threat, unless it was a Super Mutant behemoth of course…

The Slaver quickly turned back to the door and marched over to it, placing his pipboy glove on the knob and quickly turning it, bumping the door with his shoulder and letting it fly open as he stepped outside, aiming his gun around the hallway.

He slowly crept out of his room, keeping his gun fixed on the path ahead as he slowly stepped along, narrowing his eyes as he saw some dusty scuff marks on the floor, shambolic foot prints. Of course, one of those pricks that Clover had picked up was likely snooping around the executive suites, trespassing and possibly stealing.

Oh well, at least Hamilton will get to prove that he isn't fucking around, when he throws the bastard from his balcony, with a power cord wrapped around his neck, so that he may forever dangle over the heads of any other ass holes who may try to fuck with what doesn't belong to them.

Then he could use the corpse for target practice and save money and resources on training dummies…

It was on that cheery thought as he got closer to the path, to the left, heading towards the elevator, that the lights completely blacked out and the entire floor went dark.

The Slaver remained very still and quiet, if this was a stealth attack, a vocal reaction would just give his position away, so he held his enraged tongue. Hamilton reached for his pipboy and hit one of the switches, activating a green glow that illuminated most of the surrounding area. He quickly raised it to his face, only to find that his arm was stopped, half way up as the whole limb was immediately snatched by eight, slender fingers, that felt incredibly cold and clammy. He quickly looked over and his eyes were soon adjacent to a pair of grey cold, lifeless eyes, surrounded by a bulge of pink, blistered skin.

Hamilton was frozen solid by the sudden encounter with the monstrosity, that immediately shrieked in his face, bearing its horrific black teeth, that had flakes of skin in-between its teeth, which became visible as it opened its mouth roared in Tom's face, with a drawn out raspy shriek.

The Slaver quickly raised his gun, hoping to put a bullet in the creature's stomach but the creature immediately saw the movement as a threat reacted by throwing itself forward, dragging Hamilton to the ground. The Colt 1911 fired, the almost defining shot echoed throughout the hallway as the two of them came crashing down.

Tom cried out in both pain and rage as his gunshot shoulder smacked the marble-like floor of the hallway and the half naked Feral Ghoul kicked and shrieked as it took swaps at Tom's face with its fingers and snapped at his throat with its teeth.

Hamilton did little to try and stop it as he was waiting for the right moment, studying the creature's almost erratic movements before eventually raising his right arm and swinging the gun across, smacking the butt of the weapon into the creature's temple and knocking it off, causing it to fly to the right and roll over, landing in a big heap by his side.

The Feral was down but nowhere near out as the blow to the head had merely startled it, prompting it stall for a brief moment, giving Hamilton time to climb up to his feet and swiftly dust himself off, keeping his eyes fixed on the feral as it convulsed on the floor, swiftly throwing its head up and catching Hamilton in its gaze, giving him a hungry, hate filled glare.

There was a pause as their eyes met and the two savages were waiting for the other to make a move, being less intelligent, the ghoul made its move, choosing to snarl at the Slaver as it raised its arm, hoping to gain enough strength to pull itself back up to its feet before swiftly having its head stomped on by Hamilton's shoe.

The heel of the loafer came down on the creature's head, like a hammer. Knocking it straight down against the marble floor, smacking it against the smooth, rock-like surface, the sound of which echoed a little.

This **had** done the creature some damage as now, all it was capable of was a wheeze as it slowly swayed its head from side to side before Hamilton brought his foot down on it again, repeatedly this time, for good measure, crying out in rage as he brought his foot down, causing untold amounts of damage to its brain. He didn't stop, even when he knew that the threat had been neutralised as the adrenaline and rage kept him going, to the point that stomping this creature to death had fixed him in some sort of rage induced trance.

The Slaver, eventually, grunted and stumbled back as he snatched up at his shoulder, holding onto it and shivering a little as the shooting pains tore through his body, seemingly more enraged than he was, due to the intensity of the pain.

Eventually, for the first time, since he had stepped out of his hotel room, Hamilton was able to regain control over the situation, with an almighty gasp. He quickly panted as he looked around, to make sure that this feral was the only one there. From the looks of it, it was but Ferals don't just materialise from out of nowhere and this meant…

Tom quickly rushed over to the elevator and noticed that the lights were still on, from the looks of things the lights were either specifically targeted or the elevator had some sort of backup generator, which would make sense, since they would need to evacuate people from the executive suites, that could only be accessed by elevator.

He quickly hit the button, readying his gun, four shots against fuck knows how many ferals. He had been in worse situations but he struggled to remember when, he just needed to get to the generator room and fix the lighting, with the lights back on, he could easily find out what was going on.

His trail of thought was interrupted, when the door opened up, with its usual beep noise and the door slowly slid open, revealing the tight death trap before him, which was currently as inviting as that feral ghoul's mouth.

Still, he knew that he couldn't waste time finding another way down, if the fucking thing got stuck half way, he'd just have to climb in through the hatch and try to find another way. He sighed, heavily and held his breath as he hit the button to the ground floor, before making his preparations in case they were waiting at the front door. Hamilton quickly opened the hatch, above his head, giving himself and easy escape, so long as he was fast enough.

It felt like an eternity but eventually he heard the 'ding' sound, the sweet release from an angel of mercy that let him out of this tight, claustrophobic, purgatory and opened the way for him. The doors slid open, reavealing the current, chaotic state of the lobby.

At the center of the lobby, on Gustavo's desk stood Clover and several of her hirelings, firing rifle shots at not very clear targets, though Hamilton could guess what they were.

"Clover!" Hamilton called, sounding like he was more angry than relieved to see her, as if he was ready to bark an order at her and that assumption wasn't far off from the truth, except Hamilton didn't know enough to give any orders.

Clover spun around before giving a nod to her comrades to carry on shooting up the place before hopping down and rushing over to Tom.

"The fuck's going on?" He demanded, just as she stopped in front of him, looking rather indignant about the whole thing.

"You tell me, lover, all that I know is that these damn monsters just came from nowhere and started chompin' people! We can't move, 'cause we can't see past our noses!" The former slave replied, indignantly, prompting Hamilton to slowly look up and examine the nearby area.

The ferals were pretty much everywhere, so it was almost impossible to tell where they were coming from. A large cluster were feasting on a raider corpse at the center of the lobby and a few more were wandering out of the 'boutique,' attracted to the sounds of gunshots.

Hamilton shoved Clover aside and hopped up, onto the desk, keeping a firm grip of his pistol as he scanned the area, shining his flashlight over the cadavers as they wandered around the lobby, attracted to the gunfire as the slavers were shooting at any of the ferals that looked like they were getting too close, this startled the others and caused them to charge at them.

"Hmm… We could add a spicy kick to that feeding frenzy and kill a dozen of them…" Hamilton began, looking around.

"Anyone got a grenade?"

"If I had a grenade, do you think that there would still be a problem?" The Slaver to his right snorted, a rather large built man, who wore a leather vest, resembling an old world biker.

"From the looks of things, there'd still be a fucking problem if you idiots had a mini gun and T-51B Power Armour…" Hamilton uttered, spitefully under his breath, examining the nearby area for any possible places where the security force might have kept grenades.

If they ever used them that is…

"We sent Joey to the general store, to raid their inventory but the dumb fuck probably got himself chomped, 'cause he never came back!" The Slaver replied, either ignoring or completely missing Hamilton's insult as he continued to fire at several ferals, who were pouring out of the lounge.

"Pfft… Fine, **I'll **go then…

Clover, hold the fort, until I get back!" He called, hopping down off of the desk before making a break for it, wishing that he had brought his machete at this point as it would be a much better weapon than his pistol, which was both low on ammo and loud.

Hamilton slowly crept over to the boutique, as he deactivated his flash light and let his eyes adjust to the dim, emergency lights.

The Slaver slipped around the corner and soon realised that he was in 'no man's land,' the other slavers couldn't see him now and he was on their own. Still, that was probably a good thing, since they were more liabilities than assets in this war against these shambolic creatures. Hamilton looked up and saw that a number of the shufflers were inside the boutique, he could hear their wet footsteps as they dragged their feet through the organ matter, blood and entrails of 'Joey' as they wandered around, aimlessly for their next meal.

Hamilton had that next meal ready for them and there was enough for all three of them. He slowly crept towards the door and reached for the handle, twisting it and throwing the door back, getting the creatures' attention as he quickly raised his colt 1911 and took his first shot, hitting the nearest one, right between the eyes. He turned to his left as the second one took its first step and stopped it in its tracks, by shooting it in the forehead and finally for the third one, that had already got three steps in. Hamilton was quick to dispatch this one, barely moving his shooting arm before firing his last shot, which flew across the room and burrowed into the feral ghoul's throat, tearing through the sturdier parts of its slender neck and tearing its head off, which immediately proceeded to fly backwards, spinning erratically in the air and spraying blood in every direction, all over the immediate area.

Tom wasted no time as he rushed on over to the Boutique La Chic's crate, quickly lifting the lid off and rummaging inside, throwing everything of little use away as he sought weapons, ammo and mostly grenades.

To his disappointment, he couldn't find any grenades, however, the crate wasn't completely devoid of explosives. Just as he had figured that he would have lost the advantage, Hamilton noticed the frag mine, buried away at the bottom, he grinned a little as he snatched it and pulled it out, along with any useful ammo types, such as Shotgun shells, rifle ammo, rifles, pistols and anything else that maybe useful before stuffing them into a golf bag, that they were trying to sell off as a gun bag as well as grabbing a meat cleaver for himself.

Hamilton came rushing out of the La Chic, following the flashing lights of gunfire as he quickly dumped his bag on the desk and began to rummage through it, drawing the weapons out and scattering them out onto the table.

"Clover, give me your sawed off and take this rifle, the rest of you, get stocked up! You're going to cover me!"

"Cover You?" The other Slaver asked, sounding incredibly confused as he reached for some of the ammo, letting his Biker friend keep the heat on the ferals for the moment.

"Gonna drop a frag mine, over by the feeding frenzy! Keep the ghouls off of me and for fuck's sake, watch where you're shooting!"

"R-Right!" The Slaver replied, giving Hamilton a hasty nod as he did so, quickly reloading his hunting rifle before firing again as the Biker Slaver stooped down to get the ammo.

"What about the others? Where are they?"

"Outside, mostly…" The Biker Slaver grumbled, loading his rifle and pulling the latch back.

"The ones that made it out at least, some of them fell back to the lounge, they got it worse than anyone and the others are that big buffet by the door."

"Great… Fuckin' useless…" Hamilton sighed, handing Clover a rifle as he took her sawed off, a much more suitable weapon for close quarters combat.

"The ones outside have probably run off by now, so they may as well be dead…" The Biker added, pulling himself up and pasting the Feral that his colleague completely missed, with a well placed shot to the head.

"Trust me, they already are…" Hamilton muttered, picking up the sawed off and dragging the landmine off of the desk as he turned back, ready to charge in.

"Watch yourself lover!" Clover called, getting little but a dismissive gesture from him as he slowly stepped into the lobby, crouching as he snuck up on the large cluster of ferals, gathered around the mangled bodies of his fallen employees, devouring what was left of them.

Tom feared bumping into a feral, in the dark, the emergency lighting was pretty lousy once you got the front door, mainly because it wasn't really an emergency at that point, it was mission accomplished. They never considered the possibility that the danger and the mission itself would be at the front door.

Hamilton quickly lifted his landmine and held it up, making sure that he dropped it the right side up, gently, so that it didn't go off in his face. He'd be lying if he said that he had much experience with these things.

Frag grenades? Yes but he wouldn't seen dead, screwing around with one of these unpredictable discs. Just as the explosive device was but two inches off of the ground, he slowly looked up, to see if there were any ghouls nearby and he noticed something, that he hadn't seen before. Something appeared to be coming out of the generator room… A pink, flesh rotten hand slipped through the door, left agape by the chaos.

The shambolic creature dragged itself out of the darkness and made its way, deeper into the tower.

_Of course…_

_They can't have hopped the walls, they must've been __**under**__ us the whole fuckin' time!_

"Hamilton!"

Tom shot his gaze forward again, only to notice that a feral ghoul, holding a clump of… God only knows, still dripping in its hands, turned back, giving the Slaver the same hungry look that the other one had given him before throwing itself at him.

He didn't have time for this, he had the close the breach! Knowing where it was made this stupidity trivial, this was grunt work, damage control. With that mind set he threw his landmine into the crowd, no longer caring how much or how little damage it did before darting straight to the cellar. He threw himself into the doorway and threw his back against it, slamming it shut behind him, just before a pile of bodies was thrown against it, which proceeded to claw and shriek, desperately at it, causing him to lurch forward a few times as the ten ft steel door hit his back, repeatedly before he eventually fell on it and closed it again.

With the door more solidly shut, Hamilton stepped away before drawing his colt 1911, with his left hand, letting the red, emergency lights guide him down to the generators.

Tom stepped down, into the generator room and immediately saw the 'breach,' the door, leading to the metro access tunnels had been opened and Christ knew how many Ferals were running around down there. Without wasting any more time, Hamilton rushed over to the generator and began to flip the switches, reactivating the lights on the lower levels but he still needed to close the generator room, if he wanted this state of control to be permanent.

He didn't get much time to study the console as he heard two, rather loud and hasty footsteps, immediately to his right. He looked up and saw that a man, in a totally trashed business suit had thrown himself at the Slaver, bringing them both down to the ground.

Hamilton landed on his right shoulder this time, so it wasn't as painful, prompting him to quickly get over it as he looked up and saw that his attacker's face was lit up by the red strobe above his head, revealing his attacker to be a ghoul.

The Ghoul stared down at him, eyes of hatred fixed on the Slaver as he brought his fist down on his face, Tom wasn't able to do anything fast enough and received the powerful hook, right to the cheekbone, smashing his head down against the metallic floor.

He then felt the cold, clammy, scabby, flesh rotten hands of the ghoul wrap around his neck, slowly crushing his trachea in a rather tight grip, prompting Tom to immediately gasp as he desperately grabbed up at the ghoul's wrists, staring up, into his eyes.

The Ghoul continued to apply pressure on Hamilton's throat, slowly strangling the life out of him as his eyes became more cold and more fixated on the Slaver's face as he gasped for breath, slowly moving his legs to try and cause the Ghoul to lose his grip or balance at the very least.

Tom was no longer registered as a threat anymore, merely the victim as he was slowly strangled by the invader, who considered this to be the perfect revenge. Hamilton knew this and slowly raised his hand, hovering it around the Ghoul's head before snatching at the zombie's face.

Hamilton moved his thumb over the ghoul's eye and crushed, with twice the force that the ghoul did, strangling him, within second a wet, squelching sound could be heard and something began to run from the creature's eye, causing it to cry out, though the shock of the counter attack was too horrific to allow the reaction to sound meaningful.

The Ghoul stumbled away, grabbing his face and kneeling against the wall as he tried to get his eye right, letting Hamilton gasp, heave and cough, rolling around on the floor as his throat began to retake its shape. He knelt down on the floor, doubled over, leant on his hands as he did so, taking as little time as possible to recover, knowing full well that the amount of time he had to retaliate was measured in seconds.

Hamilton quickly grabbed his pistol and the meat cleaver from off of the floor as he slowly pulled himself up, he turned around and saw the Ghoul, slowly pulling himself up, moving his hand along the wall, to support himself.

He barely got himself to crouching level before Hamilton had marched over to him and thrusted his knee forward, smashing it into the Ghoul's face and knocking his head straight into the wall again. Hamilton quickly grabbed the ghoul's head and forced him to look up at him, with a half closed eyelid, still streaming blood and a frantic, milky eye, the emotion behind it was intense but unclear as to what it was.

Hamilton, without any provocation or warning, swung the meat cleaver down and buried it deep into the Ghoul's neck, bursting open the Splenius/Cervicus muscle and the Levator Scapulae muscle, causing the Ghoul's head to fall limply to one side. It wasn't clear as to whether or not he was still alive at this point and Hamilton didn't care to check, he just drove the cleaver down again and again, splattering the blood all over the wall, that the Ghoul had not long since clung to for support before driving the cleaver down, into the Ghoul's right temple, just as his head was hanging off by a thread.

The Slaver stumbled back as the Ghoul's body slumped to the ground, with a thud, panting heavily as he saw the mess that the fight had left. He didn't know it, though he somewhat expected his suit and shirt to be practically caked in blood at this point as was his face.

The hand that he had cleaved his opponent to death with still trembled, not with fear but excitement as it had been so long since he had, had such a worthy adversary. Even out on the road, few if any had the brain to match Hamilton or the savage nature necessary to match him in a one on one fight…

This Ghoul wasn't far off from being such an adversary, he almost felt bad about killing him really as he might have made a good Slaver. As Hamilton turned around, he saw that the metro tunnel was still open and he was more than certain that the scuffle would only attract more Ferals. He eventually sighed and turned around, rolling his shoulder over as it still felt incredibly sore from his fight with that first feral.

Hamilton approached the terminal used to open the tunnel and got to work, making sure that the door was sealed. He continued to type away as he heard the door open, prompting him to look up and reach for his handgun, however, the footsteps were heavier, clumsier and seemingly too human to be a feral's, he continued to keep his gaze on the stairway, only to notice that it was Clover.

"Hey Lover!" She chirped, hopping off of the last step and looking around, with a mix of disgust and confusion at the mess on the floor.

"Well, this the guy that did it?" She asked, gesturing to the mangled corpse of the Ghoul that lay at her feet, head resting on his bicep as his whole body lay in a pool of his own blood.

"That'd be him…" Hamilton muttered, sounding incredibly distracted as he worked on the terminal.

"Bastard must've come down here during the shootout or maybe he snook in, after I went out, whenever he did it, he opened this tunnel." He explained, hitting a button and watching as the door closed in front of him, however, Hamilton still kept on typing.

"We're going to need some sort of tech expert to make a password or something if we want to make this thing safe." He said, slowly looking up as Clover spun around, suddenly finding herself disinterested in the dead body and more interested in someone else's, until she saw the state of it.

She just stared at him, her rather excited look quickly turned to a look of disgust.

"Honey? You've got red on you…"

Hamilton glanced down and saw what she meant, there was a huge blood splatter all over his shirt and on his face. Though he didn't care, he'd previously been covered from head to toe in blood, so this was trivial at best.

"So I do…" He muttered, slowly stepping around getting closer to her.

"So, how did the defence go?" He asked, stopping just short of Clover to avoid scaring her off with the scent of rotten ghoul blood.

"After you took off? Well, quite a few of them got their legs blown off, thanks to your landmine stunt. Course, I had to jump in, with my sword and clean up what was left."

"Well, there you go, if I'd had kill them all, you wouldn't have had any fun, now would you?"

Clover chuckled a little, giving him a grin as she folded her arms and shrugged, glancing away to hide her amusement.

"I must admit, watchin' the new boys shittin' it was rather fun, though that got old after a while… Glad you showed up when you did, would've ended up killin' them both."

Hamilton just shrugged, she knew them better than he did, maybe it was time that changed.

"I don't know know, that… Biker looking one seemed to hold his own pretty well."

"Duke? I guess but he did insist on shootin' the ferals before they got close, I didn't get to kill any of them, until you showed up.

Got to do the lounge by myself though, which I am **not** cleanin' up, by the way."

"Heh… Don't worry, going to get anyone who didn't flee the tower to clean it up, it's either that or kill one of them and make an example but I think that we're understaffed as it is."

"Yeah, unless you want to try and round up a few of them zombies and use them?" Clover mocked, giving Hamilton a smirk, though he didn't smile back, if anything, he began to look like he was thinking of something.

"C'mon… We'll clean up in the morning." Hamilton sighed, growing serious again as he wandered past Clover, this time walking around her, instead of pushing her out of the way.

"I need a drink…"

**N:A/ I've been really depressed and didn't feel like writing, may have gotten back into the swing of things, maybe not. I decided to skip past a certain part of the story, since I felt like things were getting incredibly bogged down, by exposition and I felt like something should happen for once. I will address the important parts of the skipped chapter between this chapter and the next chapter. I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while, for reasons that should become quite obvious at some point or another.**

The front doors to Tenpenny Tower's lobby were swiftly opened with the force of Hamilton's shoe as the Slaver opened the way for his guests. Hamilton's fears of returning empty handed were put to rest, when he saw how connected his former lover, Clover, was. It seemed that most of the slavers from his day had long since bitten it, if they weren't shot in Paradise Falls, they were hunted down by other Regulators, not long after or ended up ODing on Viagra or whatever pitiable end fate would inflict on them.

Clover said that it was impossible to operate slave rinks these days, even small brackets were quickly stomped out by the tight, iron fist of the Regulators. From the looks of things, these guys weren't the worst he'd ever encountered, some of them looked quite capable and only a few looked inbred. The fact that they were still alive today proved that they must be pretty decent at something or else those Clint Eastwood wannabes would have put them down and Clover wouldn't dare bring him garbage, unless there was nothing better available.

"Alright, this is Tenpenny Tower…" Thomas began, disinterestedly as his congregation gathered round.

"Familiarise yourself with it, because I'll be fucked if I'm going to drag your dumb asses around this place, pointing out the obvious. Now, the only rooms that you need to worry about are the lounge, the clothing store, the diner, the 'boutique' and the upstairs, which contains most of our standard accommodation residencies." Hamilton paused as he let that sink in as the gormless hirelings stared, slack jawed at the chandelier, that floated above their heads, casting light down on their dim faces.

"Now, let me get a few things straight, off the bat. Firstly, you don't get the rooms, as far as I'm concerned, you don't even need to be in them to begin with. Every room in this shit hole is a potentially large cash injection a week and I don't want you fuck wits fucking it up by putting your oily, shit stained boots on the bed sheets and resting your greasy hair on the pillows.

You following me so far?"

The group nodded, though, from the looks of it, the biker types at the back were getting restless and bored, Hamilton knew that he'd have to wrap things up, if he wanted to avoid a riot.

"Right, you all sleep **outside** in the guard compound. You don't have to wear the uniform, you'll be glad to know and you also won't have to worry about food, since the pantry is pretty well stocked, provided that no one takes it upon themselves to devour everything in there. Of course, we might see a huge increase in stock, if any of you pricks are caught stealing…" Hamilton let that hang for a moment as he turned around, hopping over the hotel desk as he wandered straight back over to the elevator.

"Clover will assign you positions, since she knows you the best, she'll know where to put you all."

"What!?" Clover snapped, rather indignantly as the thought of responsibility made her skin crawl.

"You can't be seri…" The bodyguard's protests were cut off as her employer slowly turned around to face her, a cold look in his eye as it fell on her. The glare definitely made her shiver, that cold, lifeless, hungry look would do that to anyone. It wasn't a look designed to scare you into submission but a look that challenged you to keep going, so that the slaver could have the satisfaction of teaching you the error of your ways, normally with something blunt to the teeth or by shoving a thumb into your eye socket.

"Is there a problem?"

Clover fell silent as she remembered her place, her eyes rolled to the side and fell to the floor, like she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar and risked having it cut off.

"No… Lover…"

"Good." Hamilton replied, practically spitting the word out like the bitterness of his tone was poisoning his mouth.

"Then I'll see you at five…" He added, stepping into the lift as he pushed the button to the top floor, turning back to Clover and glaring at her as the door shut, separating them both and saving her from that terrible glare…

Despite being threatened and burdened with a task that she despised, Clover couldn't help but smile…

He was back…

It had been a long week for Hamilton, most of which had involved a lot of walking, shooting, getting shot at, getting shot and devastating revelations. He decided to take a few hours to relax, in his room, with a glass of whiskey on a comfortable arm chair as he contemplated his next move.

Knowing what he did about the current state of things, the three biggest threats to his operation were the Brotherhood of Steel, the Regulators and this 'Denis' man.

Hamilton didn't fear Brotherhood intervention, since there'd have to be good quality tech in it for them for them to agree to assault Tenpenny tower. So that just left the Regulators and The Lone Wanderer…

Regulators, thanks to their lack of armour were easy to kill but they were organised and an army of them could quite easily unleash an assault on the tower. Considering that their leader couldn't even run a bath, Hamilton was sure that he could survive it but then again, his men weren't him and he would more than likely have to abandon the tower.

He was torn between going down the offensive route or the defensive one, the problem was that he didn't know if word of his exploits had reached the Regulators or this Denis guy yet. Three Dog would likely spread the 'good word' across the wasteland but his eyes and ears only went so far and the smug bastard usually had a delay of a few days before he reported on things…

Usually…

He had a few days to act, coming out of nowhere and destroying either the refugee camp or that shack in the ass end of nowhere, where Sonora Cruz sat, scared shitless, surrounded by her shit kicking cowboy friends. The Regulators had a great deal of hardware but killing Sonora might only add to his problems, since they only keep a few of them cooped up in that shack and killing them might make him public enemy #1 in their eyes, if he wasn't already…

No, Paradise Falls would be the better place to take first, the pitiable guards wouldn't stand a chance against a group of guys in armour, with Chinese assault rifles and it would make a great, easily defendable base of operations, where Hamilton could get some more income from selling slaves.

The Slaver had come to his decision, he'd take a team to Paradise Falls, first thing in the morning and clear it out. It would eat up most of their ammo and supplies but that place was a damn gold mine. They'd make three times what they'd have to invest in order to clear out the infestation…

Thomas slowly raised the glass of whiskey to his lips, digging the rim of it into the rough surface of the bottom on as he slowly tipped the glass back and finished off his drink, the strong drink rolled off of his tongue and splashes against the surface of the back of his throat, burning it like a fire of passion or hatred.

It was just as he had consumed the last drop that he heard something, out on the hallway, a single shriek or more of a heave, one single sound that registered as being not quite right…

The… thing on the landing continued to gargle, only once though, a long, drawn out cry that echoed throughout the desolate building and then fell completely silent, followed by a series of quieting bare footed steps.

Then nothing…

"Was Sir expecting visitors?" Godfrey asked, floating at the far corner of the room, drowning out the subtle sounds with his thunderous thrusters that kept him afloat.

"No but he is now…" Hamilton muttered, getting up and reaching over to his wardrobe, which he swiftly flung open and quickly realised that his weapons had long since been picked clean.

"Fuck, they took **those** of course…" Hamilton grumbled, wondering if it was the ghoul that took them or Gustavo. It then occurred to him that his suits hadn't been thrown away, though he tried not to think about the possibility of the zombie squatter, who lived here burying himself in one of them.

He reached around to his back and felt the back of his pants for his trusty Colt 1911, which he quickly grabbed. Five rounds was enough to deal with any threat, unless it was a Super Mutant behemoth of course…

The Slaver quickly turned back to the door and marched over to it, placing his pipboy glove on the knob and quickly turning it, bumping the door with his shoulder and letting it fly open as he stepped outside, aiming his gun around the hallway.

He slowly crept out of his room, keeping his gun fixed on the path ahead as he slowly stepped along, narrowing his eyes as he saw some dusty scuff marks on the floor, shambolic foot prints. Of course, one of those pricks that Clover had picked up was likely snooping around the executive suites, trespassing and possibly stealing.

Oh well, at least Hamilton will get to prove that he isn't fucking around, when he throws the bastard from his balcony, with a power cord wrapped around his neck, so that he may forever dangle over the heads of any other ass holes who may try to fuck with what doesn't belong to them.

Then he could use the corpse for target practice and save money and resources on training dummies…

It was on that cheery thought as he got closer to the path, to the left, heading towards the elevator, that the lights completely blacked out and the entire floor went dark.

The Slaver remained very still and quiet, if this was a stealth attack, a vocal reaction would just give his position away, so he held his enraged tongue. Hamilton reached for his pipboy and hit one of the switches, activating a green glow that illuminated most of the surrounding area. He quickly raised it to his face, only to find that his arm was stopped, half way up as the whole limb was immediately snatched by eight, slender fingers, that felt incredibly cold and clammy. He quickly looked over and his eyes were soon adjacent to a pair of grey cold, lifeless eyes, surrounded by a bulge of pink, blistered skin.

Hamilton was frozen solid by the sudden encounter with the monstrosity, that immediately shrieked in his face, bearing its horrific black teeth, that had flakes of skin in-between its teeth, which became visible as it opened its mouth roared in Tom's face, with a drawn out raspy shriek.

The Slaver quickly raised his gun, hoping to put a bullet in the creature's stomach but the creature immediately saw the movement as a threat reacted by throwing itself forward, dragging Hamilton to the ground. The Colt 1911 fired, the almost defining shot echoed throughout the hallway as the two of them came crashing down.

Tom cried out in both pain and rage as his gunshot shoulder smacked the marble-like floor of the hallway and the half naked Feral Ghoul kicked and shrieked as it took swaps at Tom's face with its fingers and snapped at his throat with its teeth.

Hamilton did little to try and stop it as he was waiting for the right moment, studying the creature's almost erratic movements before eventually raising his right arm and swinging the gun across, smacking the butt of the weapon into the creature's temple and knocking it off, causing it to fly to the right and roll over, landing in a big heap by his side.

The Feral was down but nowhere near out as the blow to the head had merely startled it, prompting it stall for a brief moment, giving Hamilton time to climb up to his feet and swiftly dust himself off, keeping his eyes fixed on the feral as it convulsed on the floor, swiftly throwing its head up and catching Hamilton in its gaze, giving him a hungry, hate filled glare.

There was a pause as their eyes met and the two savages were waiting for the other to make a move, being less intelligent, the ghoul made its move, choosing to snarl at the Slaver as it raised its arm, hoping to gain enough strength to pull itself back up to its feet before swiftly having its head stomped on by Hamilton's shoe.

The heel of the loafer came down on the creature's head, like a hammer. Knocking it straight down against the marble floor, smacking it against the smooth, rock-like surface, the sound of which echoed a little.

This **had** done the creature some damage as now, all it was capable of was a wheeze as it slowly swayed its head from side to side before Hamilton brought his foot down on it again, repeatedly this time, for good measure, crying out in rage as he brought his foot down, causing untold amounts of damage to its brain. He didn't stop, even when he knew that the threat had been neutralised as the adrenaline and rage kept him going, to the point that stomping this creature to death had fixed him in some sort of rage induced trance.

The Slaver, eventually, grunted and stumbled back as he snatched up at his shoulder, holding onto it and shivering a little as the shooting pains tore through his body, seemingly more enraged than he was, due to the intensity of the pain.

Eventually, for the first time, since he had stepped out of his hotel room, Hamilton was able to regain control over the situation, with an almighty gasp. He quickly panted as he looked around, to make sure that this feral was the only one there. From the looks of it, it was but Ferals don't just materialise from out of nowhere and this meant…

Tom quickly rushed over to the elevator and noticed that the lights were still on, from the looks of things the lights were either specifically targeted or the elevator had some sort of backup generator, which would make sense, since they would need to evacuate people from the executive suites, that could only be accessed by elevator.

He quickly hit the button, readying his gun, four shots against fuck knows how many ferals. He had been in worse situations but he struggled to remember when, he just needed to get to the generator room and fix the lighting, with the lights back on, he could easily find out what was going on.

His trail of thought was interrupted, when the door opened up, with its usual beep noise and the door slowly slid open, revealing the tight death trap before him, which was currently as inviting as that feral ghoul's mouth.

Still, he knew that he couldn't waste time finding another way down, if the fucking thing got stuck half way, he'd just have to climb in through the hatch and try to find another way. He sighed, heavily and held his breath as he hit the button to the ground floor, before making his preparations in case they were waiting at the front door. Hamilton quickly opened the hatch, above his head, giving himself and easy escape, so long as he was fast enough.

It felt like an eternity but eventually he heard the 'ding' sound, the sweet release from an angel of mercy that let him out of this tight, claustrophobic, purgatory and opened the way for him. The doors slid open, reavealing the current, chaotic state of the lobby.

At the center of the lobby, on Gustavo's desk stood Clover and several of her hirelings, firing rifle shots at not very clear targets, though Hamilton could guess what they were.

"Clover!" Hamilton called, sounding like he was more angry than relieved to see her, as if he was ready to bark an order at her and that assumption wasn't far off from the truth, except Hamilton didn't know enough to give any orders.

Clover spun around before giving a nod to her comrades to carry on shooting up the place before hopping down and rushing over to Tom.

"The fuck's going on?" He demanded, just as she stopped in front of him, looking rather indignant about the whole thing.

"You tell me, lover, all that I know is that these damn monsters just came from nowhere and started chompin' people! We can't move, 'cause we can't see past our noses!" The former slave replied, indignantly, prompting Hamilton to slowly look up and examine the nearby area.

The ferals were pretty much everywhere, so it was almost impossible to tell where they were coming from. A large cluster were feasting on a raider corpse at the center of the lobby and a few more were wandering out of the 'boutique,' attracted to the sounds of gunshots.

Hamilton shoved Clover aside and hopped up, onto the desk, keeping a firm grip of his pistol as he scanned the area, shining his flashlight over the cadavers as they wandered around the lobby, attracted to the gunfire as the slavers were shooting at any of the ferals that looked like they were getting too close, this startled the others and caused them to charge at them.

"Hmm… We could add a spicy kick to that feeding frenzy and kill a dozen of them…" Hamilton began, looking around.

"Anyone got a grenade?"

"If I had a grenade, do you think that there would still be a problem?" The Slaver to his right snorted, a rather large built man, who wore a leather vest, resembling an old world biker.

"From the looks of things, there'd still be a fucking problem if you idiots had a mini gun and T-51B Power Armour…" Hamilton uttered, spitefully under his breath, examining the nearby area for any possible places where the security force might have kept grenades.

If they ever used them that is…

"We sent Joey to the general store, to raid their inventory but the dumb fuck probably got himself chomped, 'cause he never came back!" The Slaver replied, either ignoring or completely missing Hamilton's insult as he continued to fire at several ferals, who were pouring out of the lounge.

"Pfft… Fine, **I'll **go then…

Clover, hold the fort, until I get back!" He called, hopping down off of the desk before making a break for it, wishing that he had brought his machete at this point as it would be a much better weapon than his pistol, which was both low on ammo and loud.

Hamilton slowly crept over to the boutique, as he deactivated his flash light and let his eyes adjust to the dim, emergency lights.

The Slaver slipped around the corner and soon realised that he was in 'no man's land,' the other slavers couldn't see him now and he was on their own. Still, that was probably a good thing, since they were more liabilities than assets in this war against these shambolic creatures. Hamilton looked up and saw that a number of the shufflers were inside the boutique, he could hear their wet footsteps as they dragged their feet through the organ matter, blood and entrails of 'Joey' as they wandered around, aimlessly for their next meal.

Hamilton had that next meal ready for them and there was enough for all three of them. He slowly crept towards the door and reached for the handle, twisting it and throwing the door back, getting the creatures' attention as he quickly raised his colt 1911 and took his first shot, hitting the nearest one, right between the eyes. He turned to his left as the second one took its first step and stopped it in its tracks, by shooting it in the forehead and finally for the third one, that had already got three steps in. Hamilton was quick to dispatch this one, barely moving his shooting arm before firing his last shot, which flew across the room and burrowed into the feral ghoul's throat, tearing through the sturdier parts of its slender neck and tearing its head off, which immediately proceeded to fly backwards, spinning erratically in the air and spraying blood in every direction, all over the immediate area.

Tom wasted no time as he rushed on over to the Boutique La Chic's crate, quickly lifting the lid off and rummaging inside, throwing everything of little use away as he sought weapons, ammo and mostly grenades.

To his disappointment, he couldn't find any grenades, however, the crate wasn't completely devoid of explosives. Just as he had figured that he would have lost the advantage, Hamilton noticed the frag mine, buried away at the bottom, he grinned a little as he snatched it and pulled it out, along with any useful ammo types, such as Shotgun shells, rifle ammo, rifles, pistols and anything else that maybe useful before stuffing them into a golf bag, that they were trying to sell off as a gun bag as well as grabbing a meat cleaver for himself.

Hamilton came rushing out of the La Chic, following the flashing lights of gunfire as he quickly dumped his bag on the desk and began to rummage through it, drawing the weapons out and scattering them out onto the table.

"Clover, give me your sawed off and take this rifle, the rest of you, get stocked up! You're going to cover me!"

"Cover You?" The other Slaver asked, sounding incredibly confused as he reached for some of the ammo, letting his Biker friend keep the heat on the ferals for the moment.

"Gonna drop a frag mine, over by the feeding frenzy! Keep the ghouls off of me and for fuck's sake, watch where you're shooting!"

"R-Right!" The Slaver replied, giving Hamilton a hasty nod as he did so, quickly reloading his hunting rifle before firing again as the Biker Slaver stooped down to get the ammo.

"What about the others? Where are they?"

"Outside, mostly…" The Biker Slaver grumbled, loading his rifle and pulling the latch back.

"The ones that made it out at least, some of them fell back to the lounge, they got it worse than anyone and the others are that big buffet by the door."

"Great… Fuckin' useless…" Hamilton sighed, handing Clover a rifle as he took her sawed off, a much more suitable weapon for close quarters combat.

"The ones outside have probably run off by now, so they may as well be dead…" The Biker added, pulling himself up and pasting the Feral that his colleague completely missed, with a well placed shot to the head.

"Trust me, they already are…" Hamilton muttered, picking up the sawed off and dragging the landmine off of the desk as he turned back, ready to charge in.

"Watch yourself lover!" Clover called, getting little but a dismissive gesture from him as he slowly stepped into the lobby, crouching as he snuck up on the large cluster of ferals, gathered around the mangled bodies of his fallen employees, devouring what was left of them.

Tom feared bumping into a feral, in the dark, the emergency lighting was pretty lousy once you got the front door, mainly because it wasn't really an emergency at that point, it was mission accomplished. They never considered the possibility that the danger and the mission itself would be at the front door.

Hamilton quickly lifted his landmine and held it up, making sure that he dropped it the right side up, gently, so that it didn't go off in his face. He'd be lying if he said that he had much experience with these things.

Frag grenades? Yes but he wouldn't seen dead, screwing around with one of these unpredictable discs. Just as the explosive device was but two inches off of the ground, he slowly looked up, to see if there were any ghouls nearby and he noticed something, that he hadn't seen before. Something appeared to be coming out of the generator room… A pink, flesh rotten hand slipped through the door, left agape by the chaos.

The shambolic creature dragged itself out of the darkness and made its way, deeper into the tower.

_Of course…_

_They can't have hopped the walls, they must've been __**under**__ us the whole fuckin' time!_

"Hamilton!"

Tom shot his gaze forward again, only to notice that a feral ghoul, holding a clump of… God only knows, still dripping in its hands, turned back, giving the Slaver the same hungry look that the other one had given him before throwing itself at him.

He didn't have time for this, he had the close the breach! Knowing where it was made this stupidity trivial, this was grunt work, damage control. With that mind set he threw his landmine into the crowd, no longer caring how much or how little damage it did before darting straight to the cellar. He threw himself into the doorway and threw his back against it, slamming it shut behind him, just before a pile of bodies was thrown against it, which proceeded to claw and shriek, desperately at it, causing him to lurch forward a few times as the ten ft steel door hit his back, repeatedly before he eventually fell on it and closed it again.

With the door more solidly shut, Hamilton stepped away before drawing his colt 1911, with his left hand, letting the red, emergency lights guide him down to the generators.

Tom stepped down, into the generator room and immediately saw the 'breach,' the door, leading to the metro access tunnels had been opened and Christ knew how many Ferals were running around down there. Without wasting any more time, Hamilton rushed over to the generator and began to flip the switches, reactivating the lights on the lower levels but he still needed to close the generator room, if he wanted this state of control to be permanent.

He didn't get much time to study the console as he heard two, rather loud and hasty footsteps, immediately to his right. He looked up and saw that a man, in a totally trashed business suit had thrown himself at the Slaver, bringing them both down to the ground.

Hamilton landed on his right shoulder this time, so it wasn't as painful, prompting him to quickly get over it as he looked up and saw that his attacker's face was lit up by the red strobe above his head, revealing his attacker to be a ghoul.

The Ghoul stared down at him, eyes of hatred fixed on the Slaver as he brought his fist down on his face, Tom wasn't able to do anything fast enough and received the powerful hook, right to the cheekbone, smashing his head down against the metallic floor.

He then felt the cold, clammy, scabby, flesh rotten hands of the ghoul wrap around his neck, slowly crushing his trachea in a rather tight grip, prompting Tom to immediately gasp as he desperately grabbed up at the ghoul's wrists, staring up, into his eyes.

The Ghoul continued to apply pressure on Hamilton's throat, slowly strangling the life out of him as his eyes became more cold and more fixated on the Slaver's face as he gasped for breath, slowly moving his legs to try and cause the Ghoul to lose his grip or balance at the very least.

Tom was no longer registered as a threat anymore, merely the victim as he was slowly strangled by the invader, who considered this to be the perfect revenge. Hamilton knew this and slowly raised his hand, hovering it around the Ghoul's head before snatching at the zombie's face.

Hamilton moved his thumb over the ghoul's eye and crushed, with twice the force that the ghoul did, strangling him, within second a wet, squelching sound could be heard and something began to run from the creature's eye, causing it to cry out, though the shock of the counter attack was too horrific to allow the reaction to sound meaningful.

The Ghoul stumbled away, grabbing his face and kneeling against the wall as he tried to get his eye right, letting Hamilton gasp, heave and cough, rolling around on the floor as his throat began to retake its shape. He knelt down on the floor, doubled over, leant on his hands as he did so, taking as little time as possible to recover, knowing full well that the amount of time he had to retaliate was measured in seconds.

Hamilton quickly grabbed his pistol and the meat cleaver from off of the floor as he slowly pulled himself up, he turned around and saw the Ghoul, slowly pulling himself up, moving his hand along the wall, to support himself.

He barely got himself to crouching level before Hamilton had marched over to him and thrusted his knee forward, smashing it into the Ghoul's face and knocking his head straight into the wall again. Hamilton quickly grabbed the ghoul's head and forced him to look up at him, with a half closed eyelid, still streaming blood and a frantic, milky eye, the emotion behind it was intense but unclear as to what it was.

Hamilton, without any provocation or warning, swung the meat cleaver down and buried it deep into the Ghoul's neck, bursting open the Splenius/Cervicus muscle and the Levator Scapulae muscle, causing the Ghoul's head to fall limply to one side. It wasn't clear as to whether or not he was still alive at this point and Hamilton didn't care to check, he just drove the cleaver down again and again, splattering the blood all over the wall, that the Ghoul had not long since clung to for support before driving the cleaver down, into the Ghoul's right temple, just as his head was hanging off by a thread.

The Slaver stumbled back as the Ghoul's body slumped to the ground, with a thud, panting heavily as he saw the mess that the fight had left. He didn't know it, though he somewhat expected his suit and shirt to be practically caked in blood at this point as was his face.

The hand that he had cleaved his opponent to death with still trembled, not with fear but excitement as it had been so long since he had, had such a worthy adversary. Even out on the road, few if any had the brain to match Hamilton or the savage nature necessary to match him in a one on one fight…

This Ghoul wasn't far off from being such an adversary, he almost felt bad about killing him really as he might have made a good Slaver. As Hamilton turned around, he saw that the metro tunnel was still open and he was more than certain that the scuffle would only attract more Ferals. He eventually sighed and turned around, rolling his shoulder over as it still felt incredibly sore from his fight with that first feral.

Hamilton approached the terminal used to open the tunnel and got to work, making sure that the door was sealed. He continued to type away as he heard the door open, prompting him to look up and reach for his handgun, however, the footsteps were heavier, clumsier and seemingly too human to be a feral's, he continued to keep his gaze on the stairway, only to notice that it was Clover.

"Hey Lover!" She chirped, hopping off of the last step and looking around, with a mix of disgust and confusion at the mess on the floor.

"Well, this the guy that did it?" She asked, gesturing to the mangled corpse of the Ghoul that lay at her feet, head resting on his bicep as his whole body lay in a pool of his own blood.

"That'd be him…" Hamilton muttered, sounding incredibly distracted as he worked on the terminal.

"Bastard must've come down here during the shootout or maybe he snook in, after I went out, whenever he did it, he opened this tunnel." He explained, hitting a button and watching as the door closed in front of him, however, Hamilton still kept on typing.

"We're going to need some sort of tech expert to make a password or something if we want to make this thing safe." He said, slowly looking up as Clover spun around, suddenly finding herself disinterested in the dead body and more interested in someone else's, until she saw the state of it.

She just stared at him, her rather excited look quickly turned to a look of disgust.

"Honey? You've got red on you…"

Hamilton glanced down and saw what she meant, there was a huge blood splatter all over his shirt and on his face. Though he didn't care, he'd previously been covered from head to toe in blood, so this was trivial at best.

"So I do…" He muttered, slowly stepping around getting closer to her.

"So, how did the defence go?" He asked, stopping just short of Clover to avoid scaring her off with the scent of rotten ghoul blood.

"After you took off? Well, quite a few of them got their legs blown off, thanks to your landmine stunt. Course, I had to jump in, with my sword and clean up what was left."

"Well, there you go, if I'd had kill them all, you wouldn't have had any fun, now would you?"

Clover chuckled a little, giving him a grin as she folded her arms and shrugged, glancing away to hide her amusement.

"I must admit, watchin' the new boys shittin' it was rather fun, though that got old after a while… Glad you showed up when you did, would've ended up killin' them both."

Hamilton just shrugged, she knew them better than he did, maybe it was time that changed.

"I don't know know, that… Biker looking one seemed to hold his own pretty well."

"Duke? I guess but he did insist on shootin' the ferals before they got close, I didn't get to kill any of them, until you showed up.

Got to do the lounge by myself though, which I am **not** cleanin' up, by the way."

"Heh… Don't worry, going to get anyone who didn't flee the tower to clean it up, it's either that or kill one of them and make an example but I think that we're understaffed as it is."

"Yeah, unless you want to try and round up a few of them zombies and use them?" Clover mocked, giving Hamilton a smirk, though he didn't smile back, if anything, he began to look like he was thinking of something.

"C'mon… We'll clean up in the morning." Hamilton sighed, growing serious again as he wandered past Clover, this time walking around her, instead of pushing her out of the way.

"I need a drink…"


	9. Dirge

**N:A/ Jesus, when was the last time I updated this story? Like... A year ago? Bugger me backwards...**

**It's been quite an eventful year for me but I did have a good reason, I became depressed as all hell and went a little crazy. It resulted in me failing university, getting a nasty scar on my arm and turning on the few friends I have. Life's good now as my inspiration has indeed come back, I have a job until June next year, things have never been better with my friends and I have a fridge full of tacos! :D**

**Right, now for the story, the one that's nearly taken two years to complete... Okay, so I thought I'd give you all a head's up by saying that I did this on my phone, using the word app. Don't worry, I proofread it on a computer but I did so at like... 1AM, so my tired eyes might have overlooked one or two things.**

**Sorry if I have but I'm just so eager to get this thing back on the road! To celebrate I've written the longest chapter yet! Don't worry if you're a Fallout 4 newbie as this chapter focusses on mostly newly introduced characters.**

**Anyway, I'll shut up now... Enjoy! :D**

The sound of leaking pipes echoed throughout the darkness of DC's metro tunnels, where little to no life dwelled and what did manage to exist down there could hardly be considered life at all. Mutated, inbred rats scurried about in the dark, gorging on whatever decaying matter they could find.

One of these rodents, a ragged-looking black rat with most of its fur missing, slithered out of a tiny crevice in the wall. The cancerous lump on its rear slid against the surfaces of the crevice as it slid out into the open to feast on the corpse of its recently deceased sister. However the creature's meal was swiftly interrupted as a bright light illuminated the tunnel, prompting it to flee, scurrying back into the dark to hide.

The light was emitting from Gareth's torch, which was crudely strapped to the barrel of his rifle with duct tape. Denis or Moira possibility could have done a better job of it but the young Scav Team Leader had always been quite self reliant. The same could not be said about his companions, who sheepishly followed along behind him, weapons at the ready. They all looked up to Gareth, he was resourceful and quick on his feet. He was always willing to do anything and everything to assure his group member's safety.

Only one member of the scav team had failed to return in the history of Gareth's career as leader and nobody who bore witness blamed him for it, nobody but Gareth of course…

Jynx, the latest edition to this sorry band of misfits, followed through from behind. Carrying her hunting rifle, a battered old relic from before the war. She glanced to her left and noticed that her fellow scavenger was staring at her, an older man, older than her dad probably would have been if he was still here.

The older man simply glared at her, looking more than a little suspicious of her. Jynx, tending to be a little more diplomatic with people whose mouths resembled piano keys, gave him a nervous smile to put him at ease.

The old scavenger dragged his fingers through his beard, trying to see what he could make of her.

"Ain't you a lil young to be on the scav team?" The man asked, finding himself curious as to what she was doing there as she looked about twelve.

"Jeb, leave her alone." Gareth called from the front, his warning was somewhat light hearted but it was obvious that this would quickly change, given the need.

"N-No, it's okay." Jynx insisted, glancing back over to 'Jeb.'

"I'm going to Rivet City, Denis said that I'd be better off in a group." The young waster explained, giving the old man a reassuring smile.

"Huh, Denis huh? Shoulda known that he had somethin' to do with it."

Jnyx looked a little confused by this, looking at him quizzically.

"Does this often happen, when he's involved?"

"Oh yeah, damn egghead just swaggers around like he owns the fricken place. You'd think he knew what he was talking' about but he always ends up doin' stupid shit like this."

"'Stupid shit' bein' being bringing someone in metallic armour along for the ride?" A man interrupted, he was African American, clean shaven all over his head and a little more cheery than his old, fat, grizzled counterpart.

Jynx glanced back over her shoulder, seemingly surprised that anyone was listening in.

"Don't mind him, he's always like that." The man added, gesturing to Jeb with a nod of his head and getting little more than a growl in response.

"I'm Alex, second newest, thanks to you." He grinned, seeming incredibly cheery about this fact.

"Oh, well, ERM... You're welcome then." Jynx replied, returning his grin.

"Bein' the new guy usually meant that I got pranked the most, I've been waitin' on someone to join so that I could prank someone else for a change." He explained, giving Jynx a mischievous grin.

"Aww... Here I thought we were friends." The young traveller pouted, getting a laugh out of Alex.

"S'nothin' personal, think of it as an initiation ritual, a big shit sand which that we all gotta take a bite out of."

"Mmmm..." Jynx grinned, relishing the thought of a dog turd sandwich, dripping with liquid shit sauce.

"Can I have some Mayo on my shit sandwich?"

"Sure thing, maybe a layer of dick cheese on the Brahmin Patty."

"Dick cheese?" Jynx asked, tilting her head in confusion. She'd never heard of the expression before...

Before Alex could explain, he was cut off by a hissing whisper as Gareth held up his hand.

"Everyone, flashlights off!"

Nobody had their flashlights on, in fact Jynx didn't even have a flashlight. She stepped forward, listening in at the Scav Team Leader's side.

She could head it, the faintest of gargles in the distance... Bellowing out in in between the yells, cries and hisses of the damned.

"Ferals... Just up ahead."

"Ferals?" Jynx probed, she knew what they were... Unfortunately.

"Dammit, Denis said he cleared this place out!" Jeb grunted, getting Gareth to roll his eyes.

"Shufflers are persistent fuckers, I'll give 'em that..." A third voice said, behind them, a man in reinforced leather armour, who Jynx hadn't noticed until now.

"Any way around them?" Jynx asked, hoping to get to the bottom of this and move on.

"Even if there was, we'd still be leavin' 'em for someone else to deal with." The Scav Team Leader pointed out.

"We have guns, ammo and numbers, we can take 'em."

"You shittin' me, Gareth?" Jeb cut in, sounding especially irate.

"We don't know how many of those assholes are down here, what if there's a whole store cupboard full of 'em?"

"Then they'll be easier to shoot." Gareth shrugged, raising his rifle as he peered down the corridor.

"Jesus... I didn't know I'd signed up for the goddamn army."

"Well, if you're too scared, we passed a ladies room a few yards back, maybe you could hide in there whilst we deal with the big 'scawy' monsters." Gareth offered, with a smirk, getting little but a glare in response.

"Hey, I'm just worried about Alex, I mean he's likely goin' to be the first one to go."

Alex glanced at his comrade with a look in indignation, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"Because I'm the only black guy, right?"

"Nah, s'cause your a freakin' wuss." The scavenger chuckled, getting a guilty smirk from Jynx, who found the whole thing to be quite funny.

Sadly, the banter was broken by the gargling shrieks, further on in. Something was making them restless, perhaps they eyed some prey. A rodent, scurrying about in the dark, not too worried about discretion. Jynx shivered inside her armour not really relishing the thought of facing these creatures again...

Gareth sighed and readied his weapon slowly edging forward as he made his way deeper into the metro tunnels, with Jeb and the man in leather armour holding up the rear.

The drips of the pipes echoed throughout the metro, just adding confusion as they tried to pinpoint the sound. Gareth kept his eyes focussed on the path ahead, noticing something lay out, in the dark. He cautiously approached the dead creature, shining his torch onto it. The twisted, seemingly burned feral ghoul lay limp at his feet, prompting him to give it a kick to ensure that it was dead.

The creature shook as it was bludgeoned in its right leg, as Gareth kicked it, he noticed that the left one was missing. Deciding that it mattered not, the Scav Team Leader stepped forward, looking for any signs of the creature's brethren.

As he stepped over the deceased ghoul, its eyes swiftly shot open and it stirred under his stride. Without any warning or provocation, the creature quickly lunged forward and grabbed Gareth's leg, causing him to stumble as he tried to pull away.

A gunshot instantly blared out as Jynx jumped out of her skin and fired a hunting rifle round in between the creature's shoulder blades. The ghoul hung on to life for a brief moment before sighing its last breath, keeling forward and expiring, ending its life with a gargle as it slumped forward, pressing its face against the cold, hard, metalic metro floor.

Everyone froze in place as Jynx's gunshot echoed throughout the metro tunnels, creating a momentary deathly silence...

Until...

A chorus of shrieks filled the steel tomb, prompting the skins of the Scav Team members to start crawling in recognition.

As their wet sounding footsteps grew louder and more numerous by the second, Gareth gave the only order he could.

"Run!"

The entire scav team did a 180 and broke into a sprint, heading back the way they had come three times faster than the way that they arrived. Gareth constantly glanced back over his shoulder, to ensure that Jynx was keeping up.

Upon reaching the nearest set of doors, Jeb grabbed his shotgun from his back and spun around, aiming his combat shotgun down the hallway.

"Move!" he called, blasting into the small blur at the far end of the corridor. Gareth and Jynx hopped through the mechanical door, leaving plenty of space for Jeb to jump in after them. Gareth activated the door mechanism, allowing it to slide up and seal, leaving a 3 inch gap between the two groups.

"I'm-I'm sorry Gareth, I..." Jynx said, guilt and fear gleaned in her eyes as she spoke. Gareth, however, looked somewhat confused, though he quickly smiled, approaching the young girl and slapping his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'm just glad you got it when you did." He said, softly, giving her a smile as he resisted the urge to laugh.

"Pretty good shot though, from the hip I mean. "

"I... Didn't really 'aim'..." she admitted, shamefully looking to the floor.

"It just sort of... 'went off.'" She shrugged, getting a faint chuckle from Alex.

"Man, you should've seen that time that Jeb walked into that can trap, fired both barrels of his shotgun up at a steam pipe, got us all burned in the process. " He explained, stopping to smirk at Jeb.

"Screw you, I'd only had an hour's sleep the night before. A lovely lady demanded it." Jeb ended with a rather obnoxious toothy grin, a bit of a low blow for Alex, who had no love life to show for.

"She mustn't be a very good mother if she makes you work all night." Jynx replied, with a smirk. The two of them glanced to one another and then burst into a laughing fit, taken off guard by the previous tension.

"Hey, Gareth, where'd you find this kid?" Jeb called out, giggling a little more, much to the frustrations of 'leather armour guy.'

"Unless her sharp tongue can stab people, I think we should get back to surviving!"

"Agreed" Gareth said, stepping forward and getting his gun at the ready.

"We need to keep pushing forward, this tunnel is our safest route, we need to make it so again!"

"Fuck me Gareth, did you hit your head on the way down here or did you just miscount how many ferals were sniffing at our asses back there?" Jeb made his objections loud and clear, though everyone else appeared to be silent about it, many secretly agreed with him

Gareth knew how they felt, hell he felt it himself on some level, however, he knew, better than anyone, that the other Scav teams will need this route in order to reach Rivet City without incident. If this route was lost, they would have to take the long way around and be at risk to Supermutant and Mirelurk attacks.

This could potentially set them back weeks, months even and Gareth would be damned if he was just going to sit back and let that happen. Without another word, he readied his rifle, pulling the bolt back and checking to ensure that he had a round in the chamber.

Jeb could see that he was serious about this and did little but grumble in response, once Gareth had made up his mind about something, it was set.

Jynx was ready to follow him, after all, how else was she supposed to get to Rivet City? No, she went where Gareth went, so long as he was going to Rivet City.

Alex and 'leather armour guy' didn't say a word, they were a part of the Scav Team and therefore, they followed Gareth, through thick and thin. Jeb began to grumble as he saw that he was outvoted, he supposed that if Gareth got himself killed he'd finally be able to take over the group and implement his brilliant ideas.

Assuming that he or every other Scav Team members survived.

"Alright, we need to prepare, build up a barricade and mount a defence. We're going to fall back to that room and get a blockade set up! Alex, Drew? I want you to get out the trip mines and return back to us. Jeb, Jynx? You're with me!"

The Scav Team Leader, the Lamplighter and the complainer made a break for said room, which seemed to be a ticket barrier, complete with a desk. Deciding that the desk would make a great blockade, Gareth gestured to Jeb to help him tip it up.

"Jynx, you ever been in a live fire situation like this one before?" Gareth enquired, catching her off guard.

"Erm... Yes, once, my home had a real Supermutant problem, when I was real young."

"Woah, you shot at muties, as a kid? Damn, you've got balls as big as bulls." Jeb commented, getting an odd look from his comrades.

"Guys!" Alex called, barging into the room, Drew followed in behind him, seemingly nowhere near as rushed.

"I set down the traps, but they're tearing the doors apart, ain't gonna have long until they-" Alex was cut off by a loud explosion, an explosion that shook the whole metro, causing some of it to crumble and gave walls a nice new coat of red.

"Alright people, we got ten seconds to impact, battle stations, MOVE!"

Without any further prompting, the others rushed around the barricade, placing the barrels of their guns on them to steady their aim.

The room fell deathly silent as everyone kept up their focus, keeping their sites on the door ahead, waiting for any signs of movement.

Jynx slowly wrapped her finger around the trigger, staring down the sites as she found herself ready for the oncoming shitstorm. With a clunk and a whirring sound, the mechanical door opened, sliding straight down into the ground and ceiling, unleashing the wave of ferals.

"Fire!"

Shot after shot echoed throughout the metro tunnels as the wave of former humans met a wall of bullets. The creatures fell in droves, collapsing to the ground in a heap as the Scav Team continued to fire.

The shots rattled throughout the metro, loud echoes began to ring in people's ears, a nice distraction from the fact that they are extinguishing dozens of lives.

Jynx's hands were starting to ache from the constant kickback of her rifle, she was blinded by the muzzle flashes and deafened by the loud bangs, which continued to ring in her ears.

The most important thing to remember in combat is that you cannot allow the situation to get the better of you, in any way. Jynx was taught this by the mayor, who wasn't afraid to remind anyone who stepped out of line. It said a lot when people were more afraid of RJ than they were of the muties.

The gunfire continued, felling ghoul after ghoul as they all collapsed into a pile on the floor, slumped together in a heap, yet their comrades kept on coming in a nearly inexhaustible supply. After a minute or so of firing, the shooting stopped and everyone stood still, watching through the smoke for any sign of movement in the fog.

The Scav Team continued to watch, with baited breath, slowly relaxing their grip on their rifles as a deathly silence fell over the room...

Jynx lifted her head up and glanced to her group, wondering which of them would ask the question...

"Is... Is it over?" Alex asked, slowly re-emerging from behind cover.

"Either that or they're takin' a coffee break..." Jeb uttered, slowly pulling himself up to his feet as he glanced around, gently scratching his ear, that was still ringing from the many blasts that had surrounded it.

"Anyone hurt?" Gareth asked, glancing around, trying to see his companions through the fog. Which was dense enough to get Drew to burst into a coughing fit.

"Define 'hurt'" Jeb request, breaking into a light but gruff cough himself.

"Shot, burned, cut, anything, I dunno!" Gareth snapped, trying to get a better look at the others through the fog.

"Well, I have a slight boo boo on my ass, think you could kiss it better Gary?"

Gareth rolled his eyes, looking away as he focused on not punching Jeb in the face for being a horse' ass.

As the group bickered among themselves, Jynx's eyes remained fixated on the path ahead as she saw something move in the smoke and the fog. The Lamplighter stared out, slowly readying her rifle as a green shimmer swayed from side to side, only its bright light could be seen as its wet sounding footsteps approached. Of course, this thing sounded a lot heavier than its predecessors, sounding more like a Mirelurk than a feral.

Gareth's head slowly veered to his right as he tried to make out what Jynx was looking at, as he saw what she saw his eyes widened and his mouth went agape.

"Jynx, move!"

His cries seemed to only exacerbate the creature's temper, causing it to lunge forward, swinging its heavily mutated hand and knocking Jynx flying across the room. The young wastelander was sent flying back, across the room, straight into the large computer system at the centre of the room, landing with an 'oof' on impact.

"Fire!"

All four of the still standing Scav Team members raised their weapons and took aim, blasting lumps off of the bloated feral as it lunged out of the darkness, screaming its lungs out as it threw itself into the fray. It swung its large, mutated, club-like fist at Alex's chest, knocking the young Scav Team member to the ground. Fortunately, Jeb had his back and fired a critical shotgun blast at the creature's chest, a strike that he was hoping would have more of an impact, than blowing off a small mound of the creature's grossly mutated flesh.

Jeb growled again, continuously blasting it with the semi automatic shotgun, putting as much effort as possible into each shot in hopes of knocking it back. Both Drew and Gareth kept the pressure on as the latter carefully moved to the fallen Scav Team member's side. He knelt down by his side, helping him to his feet as he tried to avoid getting shot by wayward gunfire.

Jeb, on the other hand, kept up the pressure by constantly firing at the mutant's head, which was buried under a huge mound of twisted, pustules, which served as armour for the abomination. Jynx groaned as her previous injuries began to flare up again, making the bruise on her gut feel like it was getting shot all over again.

The Lamplighter slowly raised her head, blearily looking up at the carnage that unfolded before her very eyes. She watched as Gareth stumbled over to her, her own name echoed inside her head, in his voice.

"Jynx!"

Jynx gasped as she looked up, meeting his eyes with a start.

"H-Here!" She blurted, just so he'd know that she was conscious.

"Good, we-"

Gareth cut off by a harrowing scream and the cracking of bones, the two Scav Team members watched, helplessly from the side-lines as Drew's head was slowly torn in two, the creature's long fingers dug deep into his eye sockets and wrapped around his jaw as it pried his skull apart, everyone, even the somewhat jaded Jeb watched in horror as the young Scaver's head was violently torn in two.

Gareth was quick to snap out of it, looking over to his shocked, slack jawed companions.

"Everyone, move!"

Startled and fear stricken, the group members made a dash for the nearest exit, leaving Drew or what was left of him to be devoured as it was too late to help the dead.

Gareth barged into the first room he saw, which was seemingly the bathroom, Jynx ran in after him before the others did the same.

"You happy now, Gareth? You got Drew fuckin' killed!"

"Shut up, point you gun instead of your finger Jeb, that thing's still alive out there and we can't get sloppy 'till we rectify that!"

"Woah, dude, I ain't goin' anywhere near that thing's ass man!" Jeb grumbled, looking somewhat mortified.

"What!?" Gareth spluttered, responding in the only way that he knew to such an uncomfortable and confusing situation.

He quick shook his head, realising that he didn't want to know and even if he did, he didn't really have time to find out.

"Whatever, look, that thing's on its way and we need to be here, waiting for it. If you people have any mines left over, now's the time to use them." Gareth informed them, though he got little more than a shrug off of Jeb and a regretful sigh from Alex.

"Sorry Gareth, I used the last of the mines on those ghouls in the metro, didn't think we'd need anymore." Alex shrugged, getting a slight glare from Jeb.

"Nice goin', now we're screwed." The eldest Scav Team member grunted, folding his large, muscular, heavily tattooed arms.

"Alright Jeb, enough! You aren't helping a damn thing!" Gareth snapped, growing tired of his attitude.

"Erm... Guys?" Jynx put in, though she found herself being drowned out by Jeb's retort.

"Wasn't really tryin' to, just statin' facts."

"Guys?"

"Y'know Jeb, you're always the first to criticise me, us and everyone else but what is it, exactly, that you do for this group? Fuck, what do you do for Megaton as a whole?"

"Guys!?"

"Well, Gob's place wouldn't exist without me and the guys, neither would you. I save your ass, every time we come out on these things."

"Guys..."

"You don't do shit..."

"GUYS!? Will you both shut the fuck up and let me say one mother fucking thing!" Jynx finally shrieked, getting the attention of everyone in the room as they stared at her with a look of shock, giving her the floor with their stunned silence.

Jynx's bright red, enraged face relaxed as she sighed, composing herself.

"I got this in Megaton." She informed them, slowly lifting a grenade, which she held in the palm of her hand. Glancing up to the group members and holding it out, hoping that it was the same in their eyes, it still went 'bang' afterall.

"Perfect..." Gareth replied, taking the grenade from the Young Scaver's hands. Jeb was unsure as to what difference it made as shooting the fucking thing did Jack shit.

"Alright, Alex? Me and you are gonna set up a trip wire in the hallway, get ready to shoot that thing back to hell."

"Hell yeah, let's give that thing a second piss slit." Jeb said, finally agreeing with Gareth on something.

Jynx just smirked, slightly, still feeling a bit put out from the fact that she'd just flipped her shit and sworn at everyone.

Gareth and Alex both oblivious to her inner turmoil, simply up and left, heading out into the hallway to set up the trap. The two of them began to talk about something important sounding as they left. Despite sharing the room with a loud mouthed, grumpy grease monkey, Jynx noticed how unsettlingly silent everything was, Jeb just simply paced around on the background, checking his weapon as he lent against the wall, taking a few deep breaths in preparation.

Jynx just fell silent, checking that she'd done the same, she ensured that the mechanism was properly adjusted, that another round had been fed through.

_Don't want to screw anything else up..._

Little did she know that Jeb was watching her with a bemused smirk on his face, he considered his words for once before bringing it up.

"Have you got a mouth on you?" He asked, giving the youngest Scav Team member a broad smirk. Jynx's eyes slowly glanced up, meeting Jeb's meekly as she resisted the urge to cringe in embarrassment.

"Well... It worked for RJ, thought it might work for me." She shrugged, she didn't pull it off as well as he did but equally, she held her own, in her own way.

"Huh, well, props to RJ, I never saw **that **comin'." The eldest replied, smirking as he glanced over to the door.

"Doubt Gareth did either."

Jynx gave him a weak smile, she didn't feel like receiving praise right now, not after what happened with Drew...

In a way that's where the anger came from, when a light was extinguished at Lamplight, it was as if the world stopped, everyone watched, taking in the tragedy to fuel their dreams for the next week or so. Friends and family were informed and it wouldn't be long before they had a funerals.

There were few funerals in Lamplight, though every one dimmed the light of the town.

A few footsteps echoed as Gareth and Alex returned, checking their weapons as they jogged through the door.

"We saw it, its almost got the barricade down! Rifles at the ready!" Alex called out, breathlessly. Jeb just scoffed in response, raising his shotgun and pointing both barrels at the door. Not **everyone** used a sissy ass hunting rifle.

Almost immediately after, a large bang could be heard, echoing throughout the entire metro system as the metallic structure came crashing down.

"Ready!" Gareth commanded, the others simply nodded or didn't dignify him with a response as they listened out for the feral's fleshy footsteps, readying themselves for the last mile.

As the creature drew closer and closer, tensions began to build up as the group tried to estimate its current position, hoping that the feral would rear its head and end this tension.

They were put out of their misery with an almighty bang, shaking up the metro tunnels, sending dust, dirt and debris flying everywhere, followed by a rather irritated growl from the mutated freak as it got over the shock of losing one of its appendages and blast that badly burnt through a number of its growths.

The explosion kicked a large, nearly impenetrable cloud, which filled the atmosphere, making it impossible to see or even breathe. Thankfully, non of the Scav Team members were anywhere near the explosion and simply had to wait to see the aftermath for themselves.

There was silence for a brief moment, giving the Scav Team plenty of time to hope... Sadly a groggy gurgle dashed these hopes as the feral began to stir.

"Get ready!" Gareth ordered, getting little more than an eye roll from Jeb as he kept the barrel of his shotgun fixed on the door.

The team watched as the heavily maimed, twisted and mutated hand began to wrap around the door frame, wrapping its bony fingers around it as it adjusted to the damage inflicted on its body. It's hand slipped, resulting in little more than a naisily growl as it pathetically tried to pull itself along.

It was obvious at this point that the creature was simply waiting to be put down at this point, resulting in Gareth electing himself to do it, slightly lowering his rifle as he began to move out.

However, to no one's surprise, Jeb stepped out into the hallway, rotating his shotgun so that its butt was pointing at the floor. Without hesitation, he repeatedly brought the gun butt down on the creature's head, pausing in between smashes to get a good look at the increasingly mangled head, admiring his handy work as the creature became less and less identifiable.

Jynx fell silent as she took a seat on the floor, sighing heavily as she did so. Feeling somewhat pained for the creature or more so for the person trapped inside.

Gareth looked back over his shoulder, seeing how uncomfortable Jynx looked before looking forward as Jeb continued to violently stomp on the creature's head, turning the contents of it into paste. He was torn as to whether or not he wanted to intervene, as much as it bothered Jynx, he understood his pain, losing a man, it was a pain that they shared.

Eventually Gareth came to the conclusion that justice had indeed been served and that Jeb's barbarism would have to be cut short. The Scaver cleared his throat quite loudly, getting the grease monkey's attention.

"C'mon big guy, it's getting dark... We don't really want to be out there at night do we?"

Jeb grunted and stepped back, sighing heavily as he looked down at the mess he'd made. It was rare that Jeb got that angry, he never had reason to...

Without saying another word, Jeb turned his attention back to the corpse, glaring at it before walking away, heading out for fresh air. Gareth made no effort to stop Jeb, he simply watched as he walked away, getting a glare from Jynx, who eventually sighed and took off, after him.

The gateway to the Anocostia crossing subway station slowly began to open, shrieking and groaning as it was pried and dragged open, making the way for Megaton's Scav Team as they emerged into the sunlight. Battered, beaten and exhausted, Gareth's crew finally made it up to the surface, wincing as the crimson sun above their heads shone brightly in their eyes.

Jynx was quick to flinch in reaction to this as she was far more used to dark caves, rocky ceiling above her head, Princess barking orders...

It was a strange feeling that her memories of Lamplight gave her, a mix of nostalgia and relief. The real world was large, harsher and more frightening but, at the same time, it offered so much more. Gareth was the first to reach the top, sighing in relief as he did so as he heard the creaking bow echo across the harbour.

"C'mon... The sooner that we get to the Rudder, the sooner we can all have drinks on me." Their leader spoke, trying to raise their spirits.

Jeb simply grunted, not really buying into Gareth's friendliness right now. A drink couldn't make up for his failures, it was a start, sure but he's have to do a lot better than that. Both Jynx and Alex remained silent, replaying the little films of their lives as they were constantly reminded of Drew's fate, wishing that they had done more to save him.

Gareth pushed the thoughts out of his head as he lead the group around the corner of the crossings, figuring that someone had to keep their focus, he wanted the mission to drag out as long as possible, so that he could keep his mind off of it.

There was an absent silence as the group passed the large Project Purity operating stand. Jynx's eyes were instantly drawn to it as they passed it by, seeing dozens of Brahmin packed up, slowly moving across the way, black armoured guards walking alongside, 10mm machine pistols in their hands as they took off, taking a shipment to Megaton, Philips tower or possibly Lamplight.

"Jynx!?" Gareth called after her, getting her attention as he and the others stood by the head of River City Caravan customs. She quickly rushed over to Alex's side, getting a slight grin from him as he tried to hide his amusement.

"That's all of us." Gareth shrugged, seemingly addressing the male guard behind the counter, who didn't seem that interested in them to begin with.

"Alright... Up you go then, just keep an eye on your people." The Guard replied, as soon as he filled their details in.

"Heh, I never stop." Gareth smirked, stepping away from the desk and making his way around, gesturing for the others to follow.

The Megaton Scav Team sat around their small, rustic table at the back of the Rudder, Bel Bonnie's personal watering hole, a place that managed to stink of both kinds of piss. The atmosphere was akin to that of an old world funeral, dull, depressing... Lifeless.

Everyone, even the Scav Team sat around in silence, all in deep, quiet, states of contemplation. Everyone was fixated on their problems, trying to make sense of them or drink them away. This was the kind of place where problems were bought but never shared.

Those without problems could be found upstairs, leisurely keeping up appearances in the Weatherly Hotel.

Jynx held her bottle, sipping from it tentatively as she adjusted to its strange taste, it didn't seem as potent as the last drink she had. She grew a little uncomfortable as the group members, even Jeb, didn't have a thing to say between them.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, a loud this could be heard across the way as a young-ish woman tried and failed to pull herself to her feet. Stumbling in the process as she misjudged the height of her stool. The Scav Team simply watched as Brock escorted her out, everyone held in a chuckle as she left.

"Hey, don't laugh guys, that'll be us in an hour." Alex said, getting a laugh out of Jynx, who was somewhat caught off guard.

"You maybe, I'll be the one hauling your ass off to the common room." Jeb grumbled, necking his beer as soon as he did so. This got a light smile out of Jynx, who began to notice that Gareth was completely out of it, not paying attention to a word that was said.

"At least I don't burst into tears when I'm drunk." Alex grinned, getting a near murderous glare from his Grease Monkey companion.

"Nah, it's the one time you ain't crying like a little bitch."

"Pfft... What do I even have to cry about?" Alex mocked, leaning back into his chair.

"I've got it all; looks, caps, a bright future... I am, as a Mr Handy would say, a happy chappy.

"Urgh... Does ANYTHING bother you, like, at all?"

"Well... Yeah, important shit, y'know? Like..."

"What happened to Drew?" Jynx asked, showing that it was bothering her, on some level at least. This prompted the two Scav Team members to look to one another, wondering who would go first...

"Jynx..." Alex began, feeling like he was walking on eggshells.

"Drew... Well, Drew came down with us, knowing the risks, I know it's ugly but... There wasn't anything that we could do to save him, y'know?"

"Yeah... It's just... Did he have any family? Friends? Anyone who should know?"

Alex stopped to think on it, he honestly didn't know. After thinking on it for a moment, he looked back over to Jeb, looking for confirmation.

Jeb simply shrugged as if he didn't know or care...

Though, in truth, he was thinking about it, truly unsure as to whether or not he did. From what he saw, Drew lived alone, drank alone, he had no friends or family to speak of. There were rumours that he was saving up enough to leave Megaton but Jeb had no idea as to whether or not this was true.

"Nah, don't think so... Drew didn't really get along with anyone, as far as I can fell anyway."

Jynx nodded, falling silent as she thought on it, did no one care for him? Not at all? Or was there someone out there, someone who does care but will never know? Either way, this seemed so unreal to Jynx, just the idea that a loss could be so easily glanced over, it made her wonder if anyone would care about her or even notice if she died...

The Lamplighter fell silent, sighing heavily as she took another drink, the others seemed to fall silent as they glanced to one another, unsure as to what they could do to lighten the mood. Jeb quickly came to the conclusion that it was time for him to hit the hay, necking his beer back as quickly as possible as he stood up, giving an exaggerated yawn.

"Well, I think I'm gonna turn in... Killing zombies really takes it out of you." Jeb yawned, getting little more than a glare off of Alex, who knew exactly what he was up to. Gareth broke away from him s Trance as soon as Jeb rose to his feet, he gave the two remaining Scav Team members a respectful nod, silently informing them that he planned to do the same.

Alex looked more than a little annoyed at fact that they abandoned him, he could see that Jynx needed someone with experience to level with her and he knew that he couldn't be that someone. In spite of this, both Gareth and Jeb left him to it, Gareth's departure was understandable as the guy did look like shit but what was Jeb's excuse?

The two remaining Scav Team members sat, staring at each other awkwardly as they eventually pried eyes, pulled their heads are away and sighed heavily. Neither of them knew what to say in this situation...

"So... Want another drink?" Jynx asked, feeling bad for him, having had her dumped on him.

Alex looked quite confident as he refused, peering forward as he looked into his glass, realising that it had long since been empty. He quickly glanced up to Jynx, suddenly feeling a little more keen on accepting her offer.

"Sure, can't argue with that." He shrugged, giving her a smile as he slid his glass across the table.

"I'll pay for it tomorrow, if that's okay, I don't get paid until then. "

"Sure thing... I'm not bothered anyway, I'll be rolling in caps by this time tomorrow. " The Lamplighter shrugged, though even she sounded doubtful of that as Mungo's could be incredibly stingy with their money.

Jynx slowly pulled herself to her feet, looking over to the bar as she wandered towards it, she passed a guy in a leather jacket, who seemed to be carrying a pair of scissors in the breast pocket of said jacket. Jynx looked back over her shoulder as they nearly bumped into one another. As she looked back, she noticed that he had a large serpent of some sorts, painted on his back.

Jynx decided to just keep moving, not wanting any trouble, she quickly made her way over to the bar, where she found herself staring at the tired face of Bell Bonnie. The barmaid wasn't much for talk, she simply glared at the fifteen year old, expecting her to order a drink.

"Erm... Two beers..." She said, suddenly remembering her manners.

"Please." She added, placing her drink glasses on the counter, with a bit of an exaggerated smile.

Bell simply amplified her glare, snatching the glasses and dragging them off of the table as she went around the back, looking for the plates shipment, leaving Jynx alone at the counter, standing awkwardly, like a spare part.

She sighed and fell silent, hanging her head as she looked around, glancing over to a solitary man, clad in a black suit, with a red tie. He had a Pip Boy 3000, A model strapped to his arm, which was seemingly ignored for his drink.

Even that was getting little attention as he simply stroked the sides of the glass with his thumb and fourth finger. Contemplating as to whether or not he should bring the vial thing up to his lips.

It was then that Jynx heard a voice, a strong country voice, calling over from behind.

"Well, hello there, lover!" She called out. Immediately got his attention. Jynx's attention immediately fell on the Wastelander, seeing how he looked, it was like a little piece of home had returned to him.

Hamilton fell silent as he saw his former slave stood before him, dressed in a Merc Charmer outfit, hip cocked out to the side as her hand rested on it.

Clover decided to invite herself to sit on the stool next to him. She didn't have to ask for permission anymore, being a 'free' woman. Besides, if Tom wanted to punish her for it later, he was more than welcome to...

Clover took a seat by her former master, who's eyes were fixated on her, looking at her like she couldn't exist, in spite of the fact that **she **wasn't the one that left the 'safety' of the Capital Wasteland.

"So, you been anywhere good, during your time away from little old me?" She asked, resting her chin on her palm and propping her head up with her elbow, grinning and tapping her lips. Though Hamilton wasn't paying too much attention to her anymore, more to what she was asking.

"Went up to the big apple for a bit. It's not much different than here, except there are more circus clowns trying to run it." He uttered, taking a sip from his drink. There were a few things that he enjoyed about New York, meeting his first android, fighting off a group of ninjas and most of all, saving the city from those Commie bastards.

"Woah Lover, you **did **go far out! Sounds like a shit hole to me though, you were probably better off staying here."

"Pfft... If I had done I'd be dead already..." The Wastelander uttered, turning back to his drink.

"I dunno honey, I Doubt them regulators would know what hit 'em." Clover grinned, flirtatiously, though Hamilton wasn't really in the mood to be hit on right now.

"What even happened with them anyway? Four years ago, they were the punch line of a joke and now they're... Every time I've asked about anything or anyone, all I hear about is them. Like, what happened? Did Cruize get her thumb out of her ass and toughen them up or something? "

Clover simply laughed at the notion, perhaps a little harder than she should have but the thought of that shit kicking cowgirl being a force to be reckoned with was just too much. Of course Hamilton wasn't remotely amused, given his hunger for information.

Clover could see this and quickly restrained herself as much as she loved that look, she decided to at least fill him in.

"He came out of nowhere... A few stories on the radio about some dogooder, savin' cats from trees. Nobody had any idea what he really was."

"What do you mean?" The Slaver asked, cutting through her words as he got straight to the point.

"Again, started off as nothin', few Talon Company Mercs bite the dust, s'all pretty normal. Then Leroy Walker's team, at the monument? They go quiet...

Next thing you know, Sister, in Rivet City ends up takin' a tumble down the stairs. Traitorous shit had four knife wounds in his back but Captain Darkness forgot to mention that in his report."

"So, he was going around, bumping us off and you did **nothing?**"

"Nah, we didn't even know 'bout Sister until I slipped into the Captain's office, after the attack on paradise. Next thing we know... Gunshot, two gunshots... Thought it was just Grouse, shootin' at... Raiders or some thin'...

Gate opens and everyone open fires, this guy walks in, Regulator with an old times rifle.

Everyone runs over to the gate, fires at him and pushes him back to Presto's. Eulogy's mouthin' off about gettin' the good weapons. Keepin' the slaves locked up... Then the shootin' started again, Denis killed anyone who got in his way, didn't matter what we did, he just kept comin'.

.

Then Eulogy goes to the balcony, says we need to fight with everythin' we have, die if we have to. Then he went...

Crimson ran straight in... Got gunned down, soon as she did so. But I'd be fucked if I was takin' a bullet for **that **coward. I hid, waited for Denis to pass and then bolted... Eulogy fired a shot but I'm guessing it did Jack shit. 'Cause Denis shot, straight after and killed him.

I ran for it... Kept myself alive for a few days, long enough to make it to Rivet City. I wasn't the only one either, a couple'a slavers came back, found nothin' and had the same idea.

. but they didn't stick around, some tried to make it on their own and some... Just left..."

Clover fell silent, thinking on it all, it was obvious that narrowly surviving that massacre had taken its toll on her, she was both guilty for leaving Eulogy to die and angered by his order for her to do the same for him.

He failed her and worst of all, he didn't quite go out that impressively. He went out like a little bitch, when the time came.

"They really got lazy as far as security went, they just left the front door wide open for any assholes to just barge in."

"Well, it wasn't totally his fault or anyone's really. Them damn Regulators came from nowhere..."

"No, no one comes from nowhere, we all leave a trail, footprints, smoke... I have especially

"

"Already? Boy, you move fast." Clover said in amazement, though, in truth, she couldn't help but remain fixated on his stupidity. Fire a gun and Denis will hear it and if he hears it...? Well, it's game over for you."

"Yeah, I was hoping to have a crew set up by now, maybe have Paradise under our control again... No such luck, sadly. Everyone is either dead, in hiding or living off the rewards of their treachery. Well, apart from you..."

"Honey, I ain't the only one... There's still a few of them left, some of 'em are good people, reliable and all. Some of 'em..." she paused, realising that she was giving them a little too much praise.

"Most... Of them are a little green but eventually they can learn.'

"Or die trying..." Hamilton uttered, sighing heavily as he did so. Taking a swig of his drink...

"I take it that you want to get back in the game?" He then asked, knowing that that was what Clover truly wanted. She was a slave but her owners were always the worst that the wasteland had to offer. If she gave out an order, it might as well have come from Eulogy himself, because that's who you'd be dealing with if you refused.

"Heh, what gives you that idea honey? Think I want to abandon my life here? Sleepin' in that shithole common room and havin' to rob folk to survive? You must think I'm crazy!" The former slave remarked, her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, I can promise you a bed, someone to share it with and a more... Profitable line of work."

Clover chuckled, taking a seat next to the Wasteland girl, who stood so patiently for her drink.

"When you put it that way, how can I refuse? I could do with a bed that don't crawl underneath me..."

Hamilton refrained from mentioning the fact that a ghoul used to live in her room. Hopefully they didn't have maggots nesting in the mattress.

"And I can do with a drink that doesn't have dirt floating in it..." Hamilton sighed, pushing his current one away in disgust.

"Those... People, the recruits? Think you can round them up?"

"Heh, think you can get a dog to eat garbage? I can get 'em in but... They'll be expectin' pay."

Hamilton expected that, though he wasn't too sure as how he could convince them. These guys, they probably want some reward or... Promise of one at least.

"Tell them...

Tell them that 'Paradise will be ours again..."

Jynx stepped away from the counter, seeming... Beyond shaken as she turned back to her table, rushing over to Alex.

"Hey, you... Given up already?" The Scavenger asked, giving her a worried smile as he saw his chances of getting wasted slowly fading away.

"No! I mean... Yes! We need to go, right now!" She urged him, tugging at his hand, like an impatient child.

"Whu- Hey!"

Alex could put up little resistance as he was dragged away and lead out of the tavern, hoping to avoid attention as they left.

"Jynx, for Christ's sake! Just tell me what's going on!" He demanded, whipping his hand away as soon as he stepped outside, forcing the you Wastelander to come to a stop, though she was annoyed for a brief moment, she began to see how erratically she was behaving and, as a result, she stopped to explain herself.

"The Slavers, their... Paradise... "

"Wait, you don't mean...?"

"It's coming back!"


	10. Feign

It was high noon in Megaton and many of its people wandered over to the Brass Lantern, a place that has been piss free since...

Well, forever really.

Denis, however, didn't join in the feeding frenzy, partly because he was busy working on something and partly because he had his own food to keep himself nourished with. The Regulator had been working on an old, pre-war gadget, that he had kicking about. He'd bought it off of a wasteland trader, some time ago as an "experimental weapon of mass destruction" though he somehow had his doubts as the thing came attached to a regular household a/c adaptor.

He'd been working on hooking it up to a fission battery all night, of course, he wasn't exactly sure how much power it could take, so he had to work it out manually.

As Denis worked on the old world horror, he began to notice a faint knocking, coming from downstairs...

"S'open!" The Regulator called out, prompting the front door to clunk, rather loudly.

"Shit, Wadsworth!" Denis called, not wanting to get up himself right now as he was too busy with his new toy.

The robotic butler hovered over to the front door, grumbling to itself as it reached out and began to open the door. With a loud clunk and a creak, the door opened, though its slow opening was quickly interrupted by a loud bang as their guest forced her way inside.

She quickly thundered up the stairs, causing the Mr Handy to go haywire and start spinning around.

"Sir, we have an intruder!"

This was all that Denis needed to hear; he snatched his .44 revolver from under his desk and pointed it straight at the doorway, awaiting the intruder's arrival.

The intruder's thunderous footsteps could be heard as she rapidly approached, straight up to Denis' room. The door flung open as a small, skinny, silver child stepped inside. Denis instantly recognised her and lowered his weapon, sighing heavily as he did so.

"Christ Jynx, you nearly got one between the eyes! "

"Sir, I heard no gunshot, are you alr-"

"Yes, Wadsworth, everything is fine..." The Regulator assured him, a little annoyed that it took the machine **this **long to get up here. Still, it turned out to be a false alarm, no harm done...

"What're you doing here? Where's Gareth?"

"Rivet City, I came back on my own! Well, with Alex, y'know, Scav Team Alex?"

"We've met before, yeah. But still, what're you doing here!?"

"S-Slavers!" Jynx wheezed in an exasperated gasp, doubling over as she caught her breath.

"In Rivet City..."

Denis couldn't help but glare at her, truly confused as to why he was the one being told this. Rivet City had its own law enforcement, did it not?

Well, not that they were any help, it didn't take long for him to remember what that they told Me Wong, when she begged for help. The Regulator, in response of this, sighed heavily as he slowly looked up to Jynx, giving her a soft smile as he addressed her concerns.

"I'm pretty sure that Harkness would've helped you, y'know."

"No, you don't understand! The guy, the Slaver, he said that..."

Denis raised an eyebrow, seeing that this was no longer a laughing matter.

"What did he say?"

Jynx took a deep breath, still exasperated from having to hoof it from Rivet City. She sighed, heavily, in the process.

"They said that... 'Paradise will be theirs again.'"

Denis' brow furrowed, giving her a troubled look, those words were possibly empty but he wanted to be sure that this threat was indeed real, whether they had the means to do this or not, all slave trade uprisings must be destroyed at the source.

Right, are they still in Rivet City?" The Regulator asked, holstering his weapon and grabbing a few extra rounds as well as his shotgun, that had a few minor modifications to it, non of which were made by him.

"Maybe, I'm not sure but one of them said something about regrou-" Jynx was cut off by a knock at the door, promoting her to stop, mid sentence band turn to face it, gasping as Denis' eyes quickly met it as well.

He readied his revolver as he began his descent down the stairs, seeing that Wadsworth was already making his way over to it. The Regulator wasted no time and leant against an old piece of computer equipment by the side of the door, cocking his revolver by pulling the small hammer back.

"Jynx, get down…" He whispered, prompting her to draw her hunting rifle and take aim at the door, slowly wrapping her finger around the trigger as Wadsworth reached over for it, gently pulling it open with his pincers.

As the door slowly opened, Wadworth got a good look at their… guest. An average build African American man, who seemed a little weirded out by the fact that a robots right eye was peering around the door and staring at him.

"Oh erm… Hi, I'm looking for Jynx." Alex informed him, he didn't have much experience, when it came to dealing with Mr Handy Robots.

"Jynx?" The Robot asked, prompting the young scaver to run forward, unintentionally pushing him aside as she leaned out of the door.

"Alex?"

"Damn… Are you people paranoid or what?" Her fellow Scavenger asked, getting her to shake her head in despair.

"Well… I dunno, we thought I'd been followed."

"Well yeah, you were! I followed you, because I thought you'd gone crazy, remember? So… What'd he say?"

"He said…" Denis began, stepping into the door way, placing his hands in his pockets, along with his revolver and giving Alex a broad grin.

"That he needs to get to Paradise right away." The Regulator replied, stepping out as he began to usher Jynx out, hoping to shut the door. He wasn't about to let his power armour be left in an unlocked living room, he had weapons in there that would completely rewrite human history. Not that he wanted to be like the Brotherhood of Steel but… He'd rather it not fall into certain hands, like Raiders or Harden… Imagine if he'd shot Jynx with his alien blaster, they would've had to have buried her in a vacuum tube.

"Paradise?" Jynx asked, stepping out as the door shut behind her and Wadsworth uttered something under his breath as he hovered off to do his daily chore rota.

"What about Tenpenny Tower?"

Denis looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. Nobody had called it that for nearly two years now… not since Roy Philips took over it. It was mostly referred to as 'Philips Tower' now. Something that fate implemented to rub salt in one of Denis' wounds no doubt.

"What about it?"

"Well… Aren't we going to check that out first?" The Lamplighter asked, seemingly as confused as he was, considering that it was their base of operations. Wouldn't they want to remove it from the picture?

"Why… Would we do that?" Denis asked in confusion, glancing to Alex, who simply shrugged and gave him a 'don't look at me' kind of look. He didn't know either…

"Because it's their base of operations! L-Look, I'll explain on the way, we need to move as fast as possible!" She insisted, grabbing the Regulator's arm and leading him along.

"Now, let's get the sheriff…"

Denis quickly whipped his hand away, shaking his head.

"No, I'll be faster and quieter on my own…" He insisted, he didn't want to get anyone else involved for a number of reasons. He'd like to say that it was because they were at risk of being hurt… though they also got in the way, gave his position away and often did stupid things that jeopardised his mission.

"You just… Stay here and… Do whatever people do when they don't sneak off after me." Denis grumbled, heading over to the ramp as he began his descent, seeing that Lucy West was walking up the approach with something baked in her hands.

"Hey, woah, woah! Hey! Hold up a sec, I baked you something!" She yelped, it became apparent that Denis must just miss her a lot, it wasn't his fault, he usually spent this time on his planning.

"Here… Before you go running off again, I baked you something." She replied, handing him the dish before he had time to escape, the Regulator glanced up to her, seeming more than a little put out.

"Lucy erm… Yeah, sorry I've been meaning to drop by and thank you for the last one, I was going to, last Tuesday, I swear but… this thing came up with a Mirelurk Queen, a well and a kid… Not necessarily in that order but y'know…"

"Yeah, I know… Your Mr Handy explained it to me…"

"Y-Yeah… He usually takes these things but…" She paused, sighing a little.

"Look, erm… I'll come back in a bit, gotta go." He insisted, gently placing it back in her hands.

"Sorry but erm… Tenpe- Philip's tower might be in jeopardy and someone has to save those snooty assholes. I promise, I'll come by, with the dish, washed and everything." He finished by giving her a smile and running off to the gate, prompting her to sigh. It would've been nice to get a conversation out of him for once.

The one time she did was two years ago, she was a bit stupid dismissing him as being another wastelander. Maybe she could've invited him round, had a few drinks, maybe had dinner. Not so much for her but for him, he seemed so… isolated at times, every meeting with someone was a simple 'hi/bye' affair,

Lucy sighed, giving him up as a lost cause again for today... She had a pie to deliver and errands to run. If only she could be running interesting errands for a change...

Denis stepped outside of the gates, glancing up to the sky as he saw some birds circle around him. From the looks of things, something had died out here recently. It was good to know, whatever it was might have some good loot on it. It was unlikely a human being as nobody ever really dies out here. Except for that water beggar maybe but that was of natural causes, something that rarely happens out here in the wastes.

Jynx slowly shuffled along behind him, seeming a bit put out as she did so, the last time she was out here, she ended up getting shot. Granted, the guy who shot her was inside and probably wasn't allowed to use a gun anymore but still...

The Lamplighter watched as Denis walked on ahead, his encounter with that woman still fresh in her mind. Was Denis oblivious to that woman's desire to get closer to him? Or was this just a polite way of putting her down, without actually doing it? It was difficult to figure him out sometimes, whether he was consistently abscent minded or a great actor was difficult to tell but one thing was for certain, he kept his cards so close to his chest that it was more often than not impossible to tell...

Denis stopped as he waited for Jynx to catch up, she was considerably slower and took less time to get fatigued, not that Denis minded as he was somewhat used to companions slowing him down. Being the Lone Wanderer wasn't exactly the poetic curse that some people made it out to be, it was a lifestyle choice...

The Lamplighter eventually caught up to him, doubling over and panting, regretting coming out in this tinfoil armour in the hot, july sun. Denis just watched, trying not to laugh as he saw himself in her in a way. He had a similar ineptitude when it came to physical fitness.

He just glanced over to her, watching her recover, resisting the urge to chuckle as she'd probably end up shooting him. Instead he just waited there, seeming patient as she caught her breath. The Lamplighter furiously shook her head, looking up and seeing the tower, down below.

They were finally there...

"Well... Looks like you made it." Denis said, cheerfully as he glanced over to her, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Barely..."

"Urgh... It feels like a microwave in here!" Jynx grumbled, rolling her shoulders back.

"I should probably take a note from your book and just wear clothes."

"Erm... Probably shouldn't..." Denis advised, somewhat nervously.

"I mean, you're more likely to get shot than I am... Maybe when you get a little more experience in combat, you can wear less."

"What and eventually ride into battle naked?" Jynx suggested, with a smirk as Denis rolled his eyes and began his descent.

"Sure, it'd make a good distraction, if nothing else."

"For you or for them?" Jynx asked, her smirk growing ever so wider, a comment that seemingly went over Denis' head.

"Heh... I won't be there to babysit you forever, so you don't need to worry about that." The Regulator assured her as they approached the front gate, which was shut as usual. Denis came to a stop, just short of it, holstering his gun as he approached the intercom. Without any hint of hesitation, the Regulator placed his finger on it and pushed it in, causing it to buzz obnoxiously in his ear.

There was a brief pause as the gate guard pushed the button on the other side and got comfortable before he started speaking.

"Yes?"

The voice didn't sound like a ghoul, leading Denis to feel more than a little concerned that his fears were true, that Jynx was right and that the tower had indeed been taken by slavers. This left him speechless for a moment as he silently re-assessed the situation inside his head before doing the talking.

"My name's Denis, I... Am a regular visitor here."

There was a silence, well, nearly silence, the flicking of pages could be heard.

"Nope... No 'Denis' on my list, you ain't a resident, old or new."

"Yeah... I erm... Just passed through and traded. I'm not really into the idea of settling down. But I have friends here and I could use a place to stay, I have caps if that's the problem."

"Yeah erm... fascinating. Well, we don't want your caps or whatever shit you're dragging around. This is private property, not a bazarre and we only serve our clients." The Slaver informed him, rather impatiently as well as if he was keeping him from something.

"Well, maybe I'd be interested in what you're selling?" Denis suggested, pretending to act dumb. They were a relatively new operation, few people if any would know about them.

"Pfft... A clueless asshole, like you? I..." The Guardsman stopped as a voice could be heard on the other end. It sounded younger and a little less grouchy.

"What's the problem Tetnus?"

With that, the intercom cut off but after a few moments the discussion became so heated that it was no longer required as they could be heard over the wall... barely.

"Nice place..." Jynx uttered, sarcastically as she slowly glanced up to the tower, awestruck by how huge it was.

"Heh... You should've seen it before, it was even worse..." Denis said, with a smirk, though this was somewhat an exaduration as a crackle interrupted their reassuring banter.

"Hey erm... You say your name was 'Denis?'" The Slaver asked, getting the Lone Wanderer's attention as he glared down to the intercom.

"Y-yeah..." He uttered, feeling a bit uneasy about that but hell, it was a way inside, right?

The gate slowly creaked open, emitting a cringe worthy grinding sound as the bottom of the gate dragged through the rack and revealing the grand sight of Tenpenny Tower. Jynx found herself in awe at the sight of it, staring up somewhat slack jawed, she'd never seen a building this huge before… Megaton and Rivet City were big, sure but they weren't as grand as this.

Denis on the other hand did **not** find this place remotely impressive, he hoped that he'd been here for the last time a few years ago, when he blew Roy Philips' head clean off. The bodies in the hallways, the blood on the walls…

It was a ghastly image to be sure, one that sometimes haunted him in the night. Not so much because the atrocity was committed but because it was his doing. It wasn't often the case that Denis regretted intervening in a situation but it was definitely the case here. In all honesty though, he didn't know what the right outcome could have been… It certainly wasn't this, yet it was like this whole tower was insistent on housing evil, everyone who has lived here disgusted him in one way or another and now that Slavers occupied the place, it seemed worse than ever.

"Alright you two, you're going to have to turn your weapons over to me." The Gate Guard insisted, getting little more than a glare from Denis.

"Am I? I don't recall you mentioning that before letting me in…"

"Sorry but we don't want folks wandering around here armed to the teeth."

"Oh, I'll bet, then they can fight back, if you decide they'd look good in an explosive collar."

"Nah, we don't enslave our guests, so long as they do as we say. We just don't want nobody shooting this place up."

"Oh, so you're just a well meaning liberal… You'll have to forgive my scepticism but I'm going to hold onto my gun."

Jynx just remained silent, already feeling the heat coming from the discussion. She was glad that she wasn't doing the talking or else she'd fall apart, it was bad enough that Denis was provoking these assholes before they even got in the door.

"Screw you and your…" The Guard paused to raise his rifle, pulling the latch back and holding them both at gunpoint. Jynx tensed up, moving a little closer to her companion as Denis just stared the guard down.

After a few moments he gave the guard a slight smile and a faint chuckle, constantly glancing to the barrel of the rifle.

"That how you treat your guests."

"The none compliant ones, sure… Now, you two are going to drop your weapons and you're gonna come with me and we're going to have a little chat with Hamilton."

"All good, except I'm not dropping my weapons…" Denis insisted, glancing over to Jynx and shaking his head, to deter her from dropping hers.

"What've you got to lose? It's not like I can kill all of you before you gun me down, that tower isn't the greatest place for a firefight, the corridors are too narrow and there's barely any cover. If I even draw my weapon, I won't live to regret it, so… Why make such a big fuss over such a small risk?"

The Slaver glared at him, deciding that it was probably best to let Hamilton sort him out. He sighed, heavily and shook his head, raising his gun again.

"Right, start walkin'…"

Denis nodded as a guard approached from behind and poked him in the back with the barrel of his gun, causing him to tremble a little as it kind of tickled. He seemed awfully calm about the whole thing, because it was pretty routine for him, the only problem was that this time he had a kid to drag around with him, who was a lot less fast on her feet and more likely to get shot. Upon leaving the Vault, Denis would probably struggle to face something like this and therefore, he somewhat sympathised.

The Regulator took his first step towards the tower, slowly, with his hands raised, he and Jynx quickly became the center of attention as they stepped inside and found that the eyes of every guardsman fell on them both. They all knew who Denis was, he was like their boogie man or worse, a grim reaper figure. However, there was a great deal of confidence in their eyes, it wasn't like Denis expected people to be afraid of him but was it too much to ask that he was cautious.

They must put a lot of stock in this Hamilton guy, a name that he had heard a few times over the past few years but wasn't ever told much about him. He wasn't as big a name as the Black Widow or Eulogy Jones but some folks remembered him and he left his mark on the Capital Wasteland, like a dog that feels the need to defecate over everything.

Both Denis and his companion were shoved into the elevator and held at gunpoint by three guards. The sign said that the elevator only held two people but it was unlikely that they could count that high or read, so that probably didn't concern them.

It was… Strange, seeing Jynx, the way that she was. She was… so nervous and afraid of it all. It wasn't wrong, if anything it was totally right but it made Denis realise how… routine this all was for him. Maybe that wasn't such a great thing after all…

The Regulator glanced over to Jynx, hesitantly, giving her a smile to reassure her, it didn't exactly work though as the guns cancelled it out.

"You okay?" He whispered, getting a look from a guard but that guard knew exactly what he could do with his look or at least Denis hoped that he could.

"Erm… Y-Yeah… Just… Don't like having guns pointed at me." She whispered, getting an understanding nod from her companion.

"Don't worry, we're worth more to them alive right now… Especially you."

"Wh-What? What's so special about me?"

Denis shrugged, wishing that he didn't have to keep his hands in the air, his pipboy felt incredibly heavy and it was uncomfortable enough to do this without it.

"Well, you're young and are… probably worth a lot of money to them."

"Oh, gee, that's reassuring…" The Lamplighter scoffed, seeming rather indignant and annoyed, it hadn't really occurred to her until now.

"Pfft... Don't worry, they'd have to kill me first..." Denis pointed out, sounding quite confident about the fact that they wouldn't.

"Huh… I can't imagine that that would be too difficult…" Jynx pointed out, glancing to the nearest guard's gun. She just hoped that Denis wasn't being big headed…

With a 'ding' the doors quickly slid open and the Regulator and his Companion slowly stepped out, immediately taking a right, instead of the preferred left. He imagined that Hamilton would take Tenpenny's apartment, not the old abandoned one.

The nearest slaver knocked on the door and stood waiting as the sound of a hover pack approached the doorway, it clicked and slowly opened. A Mr Handy answered the door, rather similar to Wadsford in condition and presumably in function. It just hovered in the doorway, staring at them with its orange, glowing eyes.

"Ah, Vergal, here to see Mr Hamilton, I presume?"

The Slaver rolled his eyes, clearly not appreciating this machine on any level, still he played along.

"Yeah, just let us through…"

"Very good Sir, he's on the balcony, enjoying some leisurely activities."

"What!?" 'Vergal' asked, wondering if the robot was taking the piss or not. 'Leisurely activities? If that was the Hamilton he knew, that would involve torturing people or dissecting them alive.

"Urgh… Never mind, send 'em through!" He insisted, hurrying the two prisoners along as they stepped inside the Wastelander's apartment and slowly approached the broad balcony doors.

Hamilton stood on the balcony as Godfrey had said, standing there with a driver golf club and a huge bucket full of balls. Some of them were golf balls, some were Ping-Pong balls, snooker balls and even half of a tennis ball. It was quite hard to procure golf stuff, out in the wastes, so one had to make do.

Still, it was fun, firing golf balls off of his roof, like he was the king of the world. It was a shame that he couldn't see where they were landing. Perhaps a trading caravan was staring slack jawed at the sky as it rained different types of sports equipment or maybe it hit someone square in the eyes and knocked 'em out.

Either way, this was kind of fun and it gave him time to think on his plan of action. Turning this place into the respectable accommodation establishment that it once was, maybe gearing his people up in armour, moving the Slave Trade operation to Paradise Falls.

The most valuable commodities in the wastes were land and safety, if he could provide both and head the slave trade, then he could easily get to become a force to be reckoned with. That would definitely make recruitment a lot easier, given that Slavers could feel safe again in his ranks.

The Wastelander sighed, heavily as he swung the next golf ball and sent it firing out, into the wastes, watching it disappear onto the horizon. He smiled, ever so slightly as it vanished before losing all emotion as the door opened and four of his guards came through.

He glanced back, over his shoulder, seeing a man about his age in a long duster coat. Regulator, surgical scars on his forehead, looked a little fragile, recently wounded. And then there was the girl, slightly dirty, been traveling a lot from the look of her feet, metal armour that's probably not hers, looks like she's shitting it.

"Vergal, what the fuck!? I told you disarm our guests!" He snapped, quickly jumping down from the table as the prisoners came within arms reached.

"I tried but he refused!" Vergal protested, getting a disgusted glare from his Boss.

"So? What are you, his baby sitter?" The Slaver just shook his head and scowled, if you want something done right, then do it your goddamn self. Hamilton marched over to Denis and struck him across the face with the driver, striking Denis straight across the cheekbone before had any time to react, sending him spinning down to the ground.

Jynx cried out and lunged forward, screaming 'no' out of shock, hoping that that would put a stop to it but she quickly found the Driver near her own face, only this time Hamilton didn't hit her, he merely pointed it at her to get it her stand down as she was grabbed by both arms by the guardsmen behind her.

"Stand on his hands!" Hamilton ordered, getting his fellow slavers to do so, keeping Denis' hands pinned to the ground as the Slaver began to go through his coat, drawing a revolver from it, a combat knife and a sword that was strapped to his waist.

He tore the blade's sheathe from his hip and tossed it to one side before he went a little deeper, not wanting to take any chances.

"Disarm her and bind her wrists!" Hamilton ordered, knowing fully well that she wouldn't fight back, she was obviously too scared.

Denis groaned a little as Hamilton's searching caused him to move, shaking from side to side a little as his head rolled from side to side and his vision slowly began to solidify and become clear again.

Hamilton wasted no time in binding his hands together with cable ties, pulling the strap down and leaving him as little room as possible. The Slaver preferred to tie their hands behind their backs but he was in a hurry at this moment in time.

"What're you going to do with them?" One of the slavers asked, getting a glare from Hamilton as he tightened the cable ties.

"Question 'em… Get what we need out of 'em and then figure out what to do with them…" Hamilton replied, slowly rising to his feet and rolling his shoulders, he was somewhat impressed with the fact that Denis survived that as Hamilton did have quite a bit of strength, when it came to his swinging arm.

Hamilton glanced to Jynx, eyeing her, he was sure that he'd seen her before…

Somewhere…

"What're their names?" He demanded, glancing back to Vergal, who didn't seem to be paying much attention.

"Oh… He said his name was… Denis." The Slaver paused, glancing up to Hamilton with a knowing glare.

"Wait… Is it… **Him**!? For real?"

Vergal glanced up to Hamilton, is the Lone Wanderer was at his feet, out cold… Was this a calculated move on Hamilton's part or…?

"Boss, we gotta… Shoot him before he wakes up!"

"No!" Jynx gasped, lunging forward and finding herself being held back by the guards, who clung tight to her arms.

This didn't exactly go down well with the cannibalistic slaver, though he was thinking something along that line, he didn't take orders from his subordinates, nor did he like them riling the prisoners up.

"Shut up." He said, coldly.

"Both of you!"

Hamilton paused, killing Denis would solve a lot of his problems and make no mistake, he planned to do it but was now the right time? Did he know where Regulator HQ was? What else did he know? Probably everything… Everything worth knowing about this cesspool.

Still, he was the biggest threat to his empire, the only threat really, except maybe the Brotherhood and they could be beaten eventually, it would just take a lot of time and resources but it could be done. This guy though…

Hamilton reached for Marcia, drawing him from his back and loosely hanging it by his side as he glared at Denis' sleeping form. Jynx just stared at it as her heart began to thump inside her chest, she had to do something, she had to stop him!

Marcia was slowly raised and the Regulator was held in her sites as Hamilton's finger slowly slithered around the trigger. However, the Slaver found that the execution was interrupted as Clover appeared behind the guardsmen.

"Lover!?" She called, shoving the guards to one side as she stepped over to him, getting his attention as he locked his cold, calculating, killer's eyes onto her. Seeming outraged by the interruption but willing to listen to what she had to say.

Clover sensed the weight of the situation and glanced down to the floor, seeing the Regulator out cold by her feet, with a rather nasty gash on his left cheek. She then glanced up to Hamilton, furrowing her brow.

"We got ourselves a problem…"


	11. Opaque

Hamilton stood in the Metro Access room, staring at the now closed door with a look of disdain. Even with this thing shut, there was still a second entrance into the tower, one that could potentially be accessed, if his enemies deployed guerrilla tactics and invaded from underneath the tower, through the Metro tunnel, they could be taken by surprise again.

No wonder Gustavo insisted that everyone stayed away from the generator room, it seemed pretty self-explanatory at the time, he didn't want anyone screwing around with the Tower's only source of power but now he saw what the real threat was and it couldn't be removed by simply closing the door. What if they blew it off of its hinges? A demolition expert could be the end of them…

On the other hand, this could be used to his advantage. He could smuggle cargo in and out through the basement, they could even keep it in the control room or keep anything that wasn't weapons in the generator room.

It would make moving cargo easier without being detected by the Regulators or any of the other anti-slavery groups.

Saying that though, it wasn't hard for that Ghoul whackjob to unleash an army of his feral bretherin on the tower. This thing was a back door entrance and it could be easily used to fuck them, royally, in the ass.

"We're going to need auto turrets down here. Until then, I want six men, properly armed, watching this thing at all times.

This thing could let fuck knows how many monsters or enemies into the tower, so we need this thing secured."

"What about those two assholes in the cellar?" The Guardsman asked, getting a quick glare from Hamilton.

"You don't fucking touch the man, not until his data is downloaded off of his pipboy at the very least!" Though, by 'the very least' Hamilton actually meant 'touch him and I'll break your legs, touch him before we download the data and I'll fucking kill you.'

He was just being polite about it, because he was in a... relatively good mood.

"What about you? Where you goin'?" The Guardsman asked, seeming put out by that but trying not to let it show.

Hamilton glanced back over his shoulder, only he knew its location last time he was here and he liked it that way. He imagined that the old armoury at Hamilton Hideaway had been picked clean but his private stash, which was hidden in a furnace. Hamilton didn't trust that nobody would find it, so he had it buried by a number of slaves, who he swiftly executed, after. He wouldn't trust anyone with its location, not even Clover as it was his entire life's riches and... if worst came to it, he'd be able to retire on all of that shit.

"Clover is in charge until I get back, I expect that the prisoner remains locked in his cell. The girl...

Slap a fuckin' collar on her and lock her in one of the rooms, if anyone touches her... Then I'll fucking lasserate their gums, so fuckin' badly that people will mistake their mouth for a cunt."

Hamilton just marched out, he figured that just about covered it, if anything happened, he'd just decapitate whoever was responsible. The Slaver couldn't care less about anything else right now as he was going to need the stash to take back paradise.

Clover waited eagerly for him at the door, hopping forward with a big grin on her face.

"You have fun out there lover, bring me back a souvenir!" She giggled, leaning up and kissing him tenderly.

"Heh… I'll make sure that you have first pickings." The Slaver said with a smirk, letting her go as he marched on over to the front door. Clover watched with some sense of pride as she watched her lover and master leave, it was so exciting to be part of a revolution. In fact, this had been the most fun that she'd had since she stood by Eulogy's side.

Denis lay curled up on the floor, handcuffed with his feet wrapped up and a slave collar wrapped around his neck for good measure. Though Hamilton was limited in resources, he was willing to use everything in his power to prevent his escape.

He was surrounded by four guards, each one armed with a combat shotgun, ready to reduce him to paste if he tried anything. He had mostly been left alone, however, his pipboy had a wire attatched to it, which was slowly feeding data through to a terminal. He wondered how long it would take for the data transfer to occur as they were using a very basic cable, he was tempted to offer to modify it with copper plating, just to make the fucking thing download faster…

As he lay there, he heard the creek of door hinges as the door to his makeshift cell swung open and a woman in Merc Adventurer outfit stepped inside, stopping inbetween two of the guards.

"Fifty six percent?" The Woman grumbled, they'd been at this for an hour now, time was of the essence.

"Really? It was on fifty five percent for a good ten minutes." Denis shrugged, slowly pulling himself up to his knees. He then saw the woman's face, a face that he recognised.

A face that should be dead…

"Y'know, honeychild, you're really quite stupid. Y'know that?" She gloated, slowly pacing around the room.

"What kind of idiot just marches up here anyway? Using his name and everything…"

"I don't know… Force of habit, everyone I've faced over the last two years wasn't smart enough to think of that…" The Regulator groaned. In truth, Asher, Tobar the Ferryman… Hell, even the Enclave, even they just let him walk on up to them, he'd almost forgotten that they had the option of attacking him.

"We ain't a dumb shit raider gang though, we're the successors of Eulogy's empire." Clover reminded him, getting in irritated sigh.

"The Empire that ended with everyone getting shot?" Denis asked, glancing up to here and earning himself a swift kick to the face, which sent him down to the floor.

"Fuck you! You took everything from me! Eulogy, Crimson, even my home! Hell, you even tried to take my fucking life!" She growled, pulling the waist down on her pants, to show him the bullet wound, around her hip.

"You came at me with a **sword**!" Denis protested, gently rubbing his throbbing teeth as he rose to his feet.

"I… I wanted to save you, I wanted to save all of the slaves but you left me no choice!"

"Save me!? I didn't ask to be saved!" The former slave growled, bearing down on him with a hateful glare, which slowly turned into a look of pain.

"Eulogy kept me safe, gave me something to live for. He was everything to me and you blew his head off with a fucking shotgun!"

Denis wanted to correct her, by informing her that he used a repeater rifle to do the deed. Abraham Lincoln's repeater rifle to be exact as he always loved to bring a little irony to a firefight.

However, he didn't wish to aggravate her further with such unimportant details…

"Clover… You know as well as I did that he was an evil man, I… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for what I did to you but I **had** to, to make sure that nobody else suffered the same fate that you did."

"Oh, so you were just there to put me out of my misery! I feel so fuckin' loved!" Clover growled, scoffing as she looked away and ran her hands up and down her face.

Denis remained silent, sighing heavily as he glanced up to her. She had such a warped mind, brain washed into thinking that cruelty was kindness. He felt for her, sympathised for her on whole new levels…

"Clover… You know as well as I do that Eulogy felt nothing for you… Tha-" Denis received a swift kick to the chin for his troubles, falling on his back and groaning, spitting some blood that had accumulated within his mouth.

"Fuck you! You don't know anythin' about me!" The Former Slave growled, getting ready to strike him again.

"Clover! I tried to help... I wanted to help, I swear! You didn't give me the chance!"

"So you shot me!" Clover growled, wishing that he could slay him on the spot, if it weren't for Hamilton's orders, she would have.

"You know what my life's been like for the last two years because of you? Hmm? Going from place to place, being spoken to like I'm some dumb bitch! Y'know how many times I tried to OD on Psycho or how many times I stared down the barrel of my shotgun!?"

Denis glanced up to her, remaining silent, not having a clue what to say...

He... freed her, didn't he?

He gave her the choice to start again, to make herself into something, so why didn't she take it?

Why'd she spend the last two years drifting? Why not seize opportunities...

Unless she was simply blind to them...

"Clover... Listen, you have... every reason to hate me, I tried to kill you, when... I've always wanted to help people like you, it's why I took up my gun to begin with. I'm sorry... I... Really am for everything that's happened to you, over the last two years and before that but it doesn't have to define you.

C'mon, let's just... get out of here, I can find you a life. A life of your own, you'll be able to see what it's like to be surrounded by people who _really_ care about you. I... Can fix this if you just give me a chance."

Clover shook her head, tutting a little as she slowly approached the Regulator, she knelt down before him and sighed as she slowly brought a hand up to his cheek...

"Heh... I almost want to believe you..." She whispered, her eyes changed as she did so, showing Denis something he hadn't seen until now. It was like... she was trapped behind them, like for a brief second she exposed the real her to him, speaking in a tone that sounded more human than anything else she'd said up until that point.

Distracted by this, Denis failed to notice that her fingers had curled up and she dragged her fingernails down his cheek, leaving three big scratches down his face. The Lone Wanderer hissed as blood was drawn and Clover quickly jumped back up to her feet.

"But sadly, I don't trust squares!"

* * *

The door to Hamilton's Hideaway creaked open as he stepped inside, constantly looking over his shoulder as he did so. He didn't know if anyone was following him but he wasn't taking that chance.

The Slaver stepped into the Hideaway, seemingly unconcerned with whatever was waiting for him, a few shithead raiders or mongrel dogs, nothing that Marcia couldn't handle.

He stepped in deeper, curious as to whether or not anyone took this place up again as their own. It didn't really matter as they wouldn't find the furnace. If anyone looked for it, it would just look like a collapse, you couldn't even tell that it was there to begin with...

Hamilton realised that it would take a lot of work to clear it but he'd manage, barely... his hands would probably be cut to shit though.

"Hey!" A grough voice snapped as he heard the familiar sound of a clicking gun, which had swiftly been raised at his head.

Hamilton quickly turned to the man in question, seeing that his face had been obscured by a sack. He wore a few straps of leather around his torso and appeared to have ears hanging from his neck. Assuming that he took one ear from each kill, he'd killed approximately five people.

"Open wiiide!" He said, seeming rather amused by the fact that he was about to have his head blown off.

"Wait, kill me and you won't find the treasure!" he blurted, desperate to stall him.

"Oh fuck off! You think you're the first asshole who's tried that!?" The Raider growled, wrapping his finger around the trigger.

"I bet I'm the first asshole who was right, I'm serious, I burried a shit tone of ammo and supplies down here. It's locked in a safe, buried under a ton of rubble. Only I know the combination." The Slaver informed him, rather hurriedly.

"I can take you to it, I'll even help you clear it, I'll enter the code and we can part ways. You can keep the lot."

"Hmm... And if you're lying?" The Raider asked, stepping forward and pressing the shotgun against his head. This guy didn't even make Hamilton flinch, he wasn't Thongzi, hell, he made men twice this asshole's size beg for death. Equally, he was capable of blowing his head clean off, he just wasn't them ost intimidating person who's tried.

"Then I'm simply delaying the inevitable." Hamilton shrugged.

"Have someone point a gun at me the whole time, if it makes you feel any better. I don't give a fuck, I just want that stuff to be unearthed."

"And... You're alright with it goin' to us?" The Raider asked, seeming suspicious, he was right to be... though it was a little annoying.

"Sure, it just means that I'll have to buy it off of you, which is not trouble, assuming that you're willing to pay or trade for it. I can get you better weapons as well, the kind that I don't normally sell."

"Pfft... Why the fuck would you do that?"

"Supply and demand... let's just say that these guns aren't very common around here anymore, in a bit they'll be worth more to me than they ever would to you, since I have the right contacts. However, you'll benefit quite nicely from it, since I have a collection of dangerous, powerful and a few experimental arms back home.

You help me dig these up and let me walk out of here? And I'll come back with enough fire power for you to blow a hole through a wall and the best part is that it will be at your disposal."

"Pfft... And you ain't gonna fuck us are you? You ain't gonna come back here with twenty security guards and blow us all to hell!?"

"I'm a business man, not a raider. Besides, my security guards are mostly for show, none of them can shoot for shit and their armour may as well be paper-mache. I wouldn't ever entrust my life to them..."

The Raider stopped and thought on the proposal for a bit, clearly torn as to whether he could trust Hamilton or not. Though, it wasn't really about trust, if this was just one, barely armed asshole and his army of cardboard soldiers.

"Alright... Start walkin', try anythin' and I'll..." The Raider quickly pointed his gun up to Hamilton's face, though the Vault Dweller swiflty and carefully moved it to the side.

"I get the idea... C'mon..." He sighed, stepping away as the Raider followed, keeping him at gunpoint the entire time.

Hamilton was 'escorted' through the cave complex, sighing heavily as he went along. He held his arms up a little as the rest of the raiders noticed that he had entered the room and a woman, who looked like like an insane clown from a comic book with all of that makeup on, quickly turned to him and raised her weapon, just in case one combat shotgun wasn't enough.

She was using a pipe pistol, an abominable thing from up north, a makeshift weapon that if Hamilton had the time and the resources, he would track down and destroy every last one of them. They were fucking ugly things that were less effective than running around, punching your opponents.

"This asshole here says that he has some treasure buried in this shithole."

"What? Fuck man, that's a fuckin' lie! He's up to somethin' just kill 'im!"

"My name is Thomas Hamilton...

Sound familiar?" The Wastelander spoke, getting a squint from the Raiders.

"Wait... This is... **Your** hideaway?"

Hamilton rolled his eyes, thank fuck that he didn't end up recruiting people as idiotic as these junkie assholes.

"Yes, I know it inside out. I know about the family that used to live here, I know what goodies they have stashed away and I know what goodies I left in the... Well, in here."

"You cut a deal with him?" The Raider asked, glancing up to the one who found Hamilton first.

"No, I was gonna ask you..."

A woman Raider stepped forward, face done up like a comic book clown villain, manically stepping forward, tossing her steel monstrosity aside and brandishing a pool cue with three nails put through it.

"L-Let's kill him now!"

"Fuck off Becky! If he's tellin' the truth, that could be a fuck ton of dope gone down the shitter! We can always kill him in a minute or two, after he shows us where the treasure is." The Raider then paused, looking back to the one who initially found Hamilton.

"Wait, is he armed?"

"I dunno..."

"What the fuck do you mean, 'you don't know?' Jesus Neil, search 'im!"

Hamilton felt his wrist get snatched as he was forcefully turned to face the man pointing him at gunpoint, he hesitantly reached out and began to feel at Hamilton's chest before looking up and meeting his gaze. Those eyes, those inhuman, hungry, loathing eyes.

He froze on the spot, almost like he was paralysed...

"Neil, the fuck man? Hurry up, feel his tit in your own time!" The Raider jeered, growing impatient with Neil's bullshit at this point, if he weren't good at computers, his head would have been grits a long time ago.

After removing a Colt 1911 pistol and a combat knife, the Raider put both on his hip holsters and turned Hamilton back around, forcing him to his knees.

"Alright... Tell us where it is, so that we can get this shit over with." The Raider growled, pointing his gun to Hamilton's head, getting little but a pitied glare from the captured Slaver.

If he was going to threaten him, after promising that he was going to kill him? He probably shouldn't start with the head. Hamilton saw no need to educate them as even if he did, he wouldn't live long enough to make use of his lesson anyway.

"I'll show you, you wouldn't find it on your own. You and your men will have to dig for it, I'll enter in the code and then you can..." The Slaver stopped to clear his throat.

"Then you can let me go..."

"Right... Right... Well, up you get!" The Raider ordered as Becky rushed over to give him a helping hand, right back up to his feet. She shoved him along with the smooth part of her cue, looking forward to smashing his cute little face in with it.

"I get to kill him!" She called, cackling a little as she rushed along, making Hamilton run a little. He wouldn't exactly protest to that, at least she looked like she was good at murdering people.

"You guys always make such a mess of the body, it's so off-putting!"

Hamilton shivered a little at the implications of that last comment, he decided that it was best to assume that she was a cannibal... or at least pretend that she was.

"Here." Hamilton said, shortly, getting Becky to giggle with glee as she broke ranks and rushed over to the rock pile. It would seem that some of it had given way, dumb shits didn't even notice that there was a furnace sticking out of the top. Mind you, they probably thought that it was just a furnace, it did look like the victim of a cave in.

Neil stepped forward as well, whilst the guy in charge seemed to be poking him in the back with a combat shotgun.

"Alright... You're goin' to tell us that code and then..."

"You'll let me go, yeah yeah..." Hamilton cut off for him as he watched the diggers hard at work. It was pretty funny, watching them digging away. He glanced up to the ceiling a couple of times as he waited, wishing that he'd just brought a few slavers down here and shot the place up. Hell, **he **could have shot the place up and dug this place out by now. These assholes were pissing him off.

Hamilton watched as the rock pile slowly decreased over the course of an hour, it was pathetic, truly, but it gave him some time to think. He did plan on killing them originally but they might be more useful alive, even if it was just in chains.

Besides, he was going to need someone to haul all of his stuff back for him, there were at least three gun bags worth of parts in there.

"Will you two hurry the fuck up?" The Leader snarled, poking Hamilton in the back with his gun.

"How hard is it to move a couple of rocks!?"

Hamilton simply rolled his eyes, it took even longer to stack the rocks up, since those assholes were malnourished and weak. At least they were smarter than these two streaks of piss.

The two of them were forced to wait for some time before the last of the rocks was pulled away, immediately they all came tumbling down, making a loud clattering sound as the two Raiders hopped back, gasping as they avoided the incoming wave of stones.

"Fuck!" Neil yelled, managing to narrowly avoid the landslide, hopping back and stumbling a few times to do so. Becky did the same, though she seemed to find it amusing somehow, giggling like a child as she did so.

"W-Wait..." He murmured, leaning forward towards the furnace.

"Hold on, there isn't a keypad-"

His deductions were cut short by the almighty thud of his boss hitting the ground, Hamilton had used the sound of the crashing rocks to cover up the sound of the poor old fucker's neck snapping.

Neil swiftly turned around, readying his shotgun but finding that he was face to barrel with Marcia, who was now pointing between his eyes, Becky also turned around with her pipe pistol but finding that her former employer's pipe pistol was now pointing at her forehead as well.

"Drop your weapons, now!"

Neither of them, not even Berserker Becky wanted to test him, so they simply dropped their weapons. If he was going to kill them, he would've done it by now as he had plenty of opportunity.

"Okay, open the furnace, take the duffle bags out and carry two of them each. Hamilton ordered, he wasn't assed if they didn't, he could just blow a hole in the resisting one's head to set an example to the other one and if that didn't work, it wouldn't be the end of the world if he carried it back himself.

Neil obeyed, swiftly throwing the door to the furnace open and tossing Becky the bag, the weight of it almost knocked her over as she caught it but she still managed to put it on.

"Alright then, time to move out..." Hamilton sighed, gesturing to the right with his gun and getting a compliant nod out of them as they slowly shuffled along, stepping over the body of their former and employer and stepping towards the front door.

Hamilton looked back at his former hideout one last time, there were a lot of memories in this place, though they were long gone, he could see the blood and tear stains on the floor.

He shook his head, quickly following his hostages out, the ghosts of the past could wait as they'll see him in hell.


	12. Retribution

The second duffel bag was slammed down onto Hamilton's desk, with a bit of a thud, followed by one of Becky's giggles as she stepped back and allowed the Slaver to take a look inside.

"M16s... Grenades... M4s and a Chinese Assault rifle..." Hamilton sighed, quickly unzipping the second bag as he scanned inside.

"Shotguns... Handguns..." He paused again, heading over to the third bag and finding a large stash of ammo.

"Yep, it's all here. Untouched by time..." He looked back over his shoulder, where he saw Becky, Neil and two Slavers stood behind him, ready to take orders.

"Right, Neil, Janet, Kieran. Put these guns back together and get them loaded, we're going to need them tomorrow morning."

"Hey, what about me!?" Becky pouted, resting her baseball bat on her shoulder as she placed a hand on her hip.

"What am I, chopped liver!?"

"You will be, next time you interrupt me..." Hamilton replied, sternly, glaring at her. The Slavers who knew Hamilton a little better weren't sure if he was joking...

"I want you guarding the perimeter. Report into Sarchez and see where he needs you. Everyone else has their work cut out for them, so get to it."

Hamilton stepped on over towards the door, wondering if Denis' pipboy had finished uploading. Not that he was in a hurry, he wouldn't need it for at least a few days...

Jynx remained silent in Irving Cheng's old room, hands bound by old world police handcuffs. She had long since given up, trying to break free of them, after her wrists began to grow inflamed. She sighed heavily and hung her head, trying not to make eye contact with the creepy guard ahead of her, who seemed to stare at her intently.

The Lamplighter could feel herself welling up a little, she wouldn't bullshit anyone, not even her captors. She was afraid and who could blame her? She was either going to be murdered or enslaved, there wasn't exactly a happy ending to this...

Strangely enough, the thing that she felt most was thirsty... Her mouth was so dry that she could feel her tongue sticking to the roof of it. She sighed heavily, shuddering a little as she did so. Was she allowed to ask for water? The words were in her mouth ready but fear kept them in check, she paused and took a deep breath, sighing heavily.

_C'mon... What's the worst they can do? They aren't going to beat you up for politely asking for water, that would be stupid..._

Though somehow, she hadn't convinced herself, most of these guys looked like they'd beat you up for looking at them the wrong way...

She weighed up the risks and cleared her throat before looking up to the guard ahead of her, ready to make her request.

"I... C-Can I have something to drink?" She asked, she didn't need to get his attention as she already had it.

A small smile crept across his lips as he relaxed a little more.

"Well, that depends... Only good, well behaved prisoners get treats." He said, giving her a smile that made her skin crawl.

"I... I haven't tried to escape or anything, you've been watching me this whole time!" Jynx protested. It was true, she hadn't said or done anything since she was placed here. Unless you count tugging at her restraints but that would be incredibly petty of them.

"I have..." The Guard replied, slowly rising up to his feet as he slowly approached her.

"And I can see that you're very special."

Jynx stiffened in response to that, not only was this guy, with his rotten teeth, porno tache and thinning greasy hair the most revolting thing she'd ever seen but he was also about as subtle as a clown, running through a minefield.

The question was, how was she going to play this? She saw a chance to escape here... Only, if she didn't escape, she'd probably end up regretting enticing him for the rest of her days... as few or unbearable as they would be.

No, it was all or nothing, she had the advantage as she had half a brain. She just needed this guy to get a little closer...

"I... I'm not special..." She mumbled, doing her best to seem embarrassed by his 'flattery.' It took a lot of effort not to cringe or dry heave.

"Sure you are..." The Guard said, giving her a rotten smile as he took a seat beside her, gently placing his hand around her waist. His breath stank like death, good god, he could **kill** with that!

"You've gotten yourself a nice pair of tits for a girl your age."

_Charming..._

"You're..." She stopped herself from saying anything that could be taken as sarcasm as much as she wanted to say it, she didn't want to provoke him.

"I... Didn't think that there was much to me..." She 'admitted' with a sigh, in truth, she didn't get it either. She was unhealthily skinny and nearly flat chested, was he high or was he just that desperate?

"Don't say that honey..." He said, gently running his fingers through her hair as he proceeded to gently caress her neck. She could feel his tache tickling it, her fingers curled as she did everything in her power to prevent herself from shuddering in fear and disgust...

She wasn't exactly successful, however, he took that to mean that she was in a state of arousal and proceeded to wrap her arms around her and slowly pull her down onto her back as he continued to kiss her neck. This was the worst, the absolute fucking worst. Why did she think that this was a good idea again?

Jynx swallowed the small pool of vomit that had accumulated in the back of her mouth as she began to feel around his waist, just hoping that she wouldn't accidentally touch anything small, shrivelled and disease riddled in the process.

He has to have a knife, surely...

The Slaver then pulled back and looked down on her with a smile, one that she managed to force back as he went in for a kiss, hoping to lock lips and have a round of tonsil tennis.

Jynx stiffened from under him and quickly brought her knee up, it wasn't even intentional but it went straight up, between his legs and crushed his testicles, causing him to emit a high pitched squeak as he fell off of her and desperately nursed them with his hands.

"S-Sorry!" Jynx gasped, taken by surprise herself, though on reflection, she wasn't at all sorry, this is **exactly **what she wanted. She quickly jumped up and put the steel, linked chains around the Slaver's throat and began to pull back with as much force as her arms and back could muster, crushing his larynx.

She could hear him choking and spluttering as she tightened her hold on his neck. Jynx could feel her arms being furiously tugged to the breaking point as she winced in agony, feeling like her elbows were going to give way and snap.

After a long struggle, she felt the Slaver go limp in her arms, hanging his head as a small trail of spit leaked from his lips, hovering just above the ground. The Lamplighter swiftly pulled the chains of her cufffs up his face, dragging them over his nose and letting his head slump down to the floor as she gasped, stepping back and panting heavily as she stared down at him, sighing heavily.

* * *

The elevator doors opened to the lobby, slowly opening before the front desk and out stepped a rather short, Slaver, who wore a scarf around her mouth and nose. She marched, straight backed, brandishing an American Assault rifle, hoping that she wasn't shot wearing this paper thin, poly-fibre armour.

She missed her metal armour but knew that stepping out of that door wearing them was suicide. Thankfully the guy behind the desk wasn't paying her much mind as he was studying an issue of the Cat's Paw, rather intently, trying to see past the semen stains to see the model's sultry bits. Judging from his mumblings, he wasn't having much success...

Now, she just had to look for Denis, not having a clue where the Regulator was being held...

But how would she find out? They probably didn't write this stuff down... Not so much because they were smart but because none of their peers would be able to read it...

It then occurred to her, could she... Ask them? It sounded insane but they must be able to answer her, even if they insulted her immediately after... The only thing she'd have to do was come up with a reason as to why she was asking...

Swallowing her hesitation, in the form of bile, the Lamplighter stopped, where she was walking and turned back towards the desk. She needed a lie, she needed one fast...

_Used it._

_Nope._

_Won't work..._

_Ah!_

By this point, she had reached the desk, where she had came to a standstill, staring down at the man as he flicked through his magazine, unintentionally skimming through it as 3 out of five pages ended up being flicked in the process.

"Ex- Excuse me." She said, adopting a more assertive tone but it was too late, what kind of Slaver says 'Excuse me?' anyway?

"What?" The Slaver asked, impatiently, flicking through his magazine, not having the patience to even look her in the eyes.

"I... I need to take something to the prisoner, that guy in the black suit asked me to bring him a fuse." The Lamplighter said, holding her hand in the other to stop them from shaking.

"A fuse?" The Slaver asked, tossing his magazine to one side.

"The fuck does Hamilton want a fuse for!?"

"I don't know, I didn't **ask** him! I just do what he tells me!" Jynx pointed out, seeming a little irate by the man's stalling.

"Alright, fuck. Was only askin'... He's in the... Room. You know..."

"No, I don't..."

"Erm... Well, that new room, where the ferals came from? There's some sorta... observation room, that looks into that one? Leave it there."

"R-Right." The disguised Slaver murmured, taking a step back.

"Thanks."

"Whatever..." The Slaver grunted, placing his boots on the table as he picked up where he left off on his 'reading.'

Jynx slowly crept away, panting heavily as she did so, she felt like she was close to hyperventilating. Jesus Christ, did she get away with it? Was the Slaver pushing a button under his desk? Or did she happen to catch him during his... frivolous time, getting the aid of his blueballs? She had no idea but whatever deflected his suspicion, she was thankful for it.

She stepped outside of the building, wandering over to the shack in question, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. She just needed to get into that basement, she just needed to keep her head down, not draw attention to herself and focus on the task at hand. The Lamplighter pushed the door open, frantically looking around as she stared into the darkness of the stairway but finding that no eyes had fallen on her. Not yet anyway...

She really must look the part...

Jynx began her descent, automatically wincing and shuddering as she heard the heavy beatings going on below. The fact that it was happening to a man that she considered to be her friend did **not** make it easy on her. She bit her lip, under her scarf, hoping to keep it at bay as she prepared herself for what she would see next.

* * *

The basement door slowly opened as the Slaver guard stepped inside, trying not to look as Clover 'worked' on her Prisoner. She kicked him, repeatedly, whilst he was down, repaying the kindness that he showed her when she was at her most vulnerable.

At this point, Denis' body wasn't able to put up much resistance. It was starting to hurt a great deal as he had some severe bruising below his ribs on his left side and some swelling around his eye. The talking had long since stopped on both sides as Clover continued to stomp on the Regulator, driving the heel of her boot down, unknowingly onto his gunshot wound, causing him to cry out in pain.

"D'aww... Here I thought you were a tough guy..." Clover mocked, taking a step back to take a breather as Denis rolled from side to side on his back, clutching at the wound.

"Ain't so fun being the victim for once, is it!?"

Jynx, against all of her instincts, remained silent. That Slaver bitch was one to talk... Didn't she go around killing people? Bringing misery to their lives and she was whining because someone took it upon themselves to shoot at her?

Hypocrite...

Denis had no response for her, probably because he didn't want to waste what little air he had on antagonising her. He slowly pulled himself up a little, doing his best to keep his head off of the ground as he sat on his hip, panting heavily as he put all of his weight on his right arm.

Clover knew that she wasn't going to get a response out of him if she did talk to him, she looked over to her left, over to the terminal, which was apparently on 95%. It looked like she had another ten minutes or so before it was done...

Ten minutes of pain...

The former slave smirked before lifting her boot up, smashing her toe, straight into Denis' face and knocking him on his back before she continued to beat on him. Jynx winced as she watched the barbaric tenderising of her friend, wondering what she could do...

She could shoot clover in the back but her assault rifle would surely make a noise and he'd have to escape from a dozen, hostile Slavers. She'd have to play it cool, figure this out... Only she had no idea how. When was the time to strike? RJ taught her about handling a giant, green monster, running towards you and screaming but... This?

As if it was an answered prayer, the door to the cellar opened, almost silently as 'Black Suit Guy' entered the room. Jynx stiffened her back as their eyes locked and she could feel herself involuntarily shaking out of fear.

He glared at her intently, almost hungrily as he slowly pulled his hand up to his lips and pressed his finger against them, quickly glancing over to Clover as she continued to beat on her prisoner.

The Slaver slowly stepped on over to her, drawing his Colt 1911 pistol from his suit pocket as he slowly held it up, doing his best to match his footsteps with the sounds of Denis' beatings. With two quick strides, he pulled the hammer back on his gun, pressing it against the back of Clover's neck.

"Stop. Now."

She shot up, almost like she had a collar on again, that had hijacked her posteriority and forced her to straighten her back. Jynx couldn't see her face but she looked just as scared as she did...

"L-Lover..." She stammered, slowly turning around to face him, feeling some relief as he lowered his gun.

"No need for the gun, I... You just had to say the wo-" The Forme Slave's lies were cut off as she received a kiss on the cheek from Marcia, a pretty hard one as well as Hamilton whacked the Colt 1911 pistol straight into her left cheekbone. She let out a yell in pain as she stumbled off to the side, reaching up for her cheek.

"I said... Nobody was the lay a finger on him. If he had died, the download would've gone to shit and we would've been **fucked**!" The Wastelander growled, glaring down at her before sighing, glancing down to the floor.

"Next time I say something, open your fucking ears." He sighed, getting a compliant nod in response as Clover gently rubbed her cheek, slowly stepping around him and heading towards the stairway. Hamilton stepped on over to the terminal and ejected the holotape from inside it, containing precious data that Denis' pipboy contained.

He pocketed it and began his ascent up the stairs, leaving Jynx and another Slaver to watch over Denis' unconscious form. The Lamplighter stiffened as Hamilton walked past, feeling like she was mere inches away from death itself. Her fingers curled in recognition as he did so and she felt every muscle in her body relax upon hearing the large door, up above, slam shut.

Now was the time to strike.

The Lamplighter took a deep breath before glancing at the guard to her left, she swiftly marched over to the guard, knowing that she was going to regret this but she couldn't leave Denis to die. She'd rather die in a rescue attempt than have to live with the guild of leaving him behind.

The guard quickly caught on but not quick enough as Jynx's gun butt hit him square in the face, knocking him straight to the floor with an 'oof!' as the Lamplighter pulled her scarf down, she was desperate to not waist any time as she rushed on over to her companion and got to work, undoing his restraints.

"Heh... You're full of surprises..." Denis wheezed as the Lamplighter furiously tugged at his restraints, undoing them as quickly, yet clumsily as possible.

"So are you... Getting yourself captured." She grumbled as she made some progress.

"Remind me to beat you up myself once we get out of here."

"Heh, get me out of here and I'll even let you use a baseball bat..."

With a click and a clatter, Denis' restraints rolled off, leaving him panting on all fours as he hung his head, giving a heavy sigh. Jynx quickly threw herself into him, forgetting about the bruising around his chest and above his waist as she embraced him.

"G-God dammit Denis, we were 'this' close to getting killed!" She mumbled into his chest, getting a heavy sigh from him as he gently wrapped his arm around her back.

"Hey... It's okay... Nothing bad happened, did it?" He whispered, slowly prying her off and looking her in the face, seeing that she was welling up.

The Lamplighter shook her head, gasping and sniffing.

"One of the guards... Tried to erm... Have his way with me but he ended up regretting it." She murmured, glancing off to the side.

"I... Kind of encouraged him, so that I could escape..."

"You were smart... He probably wouldn't have taken 'no' for an answer anyway." The Regulator whispered, slowly rising to his feet.

"C'mon... We need to get out of here.

**Now.**"


	13. Tremor

Hamilton stepped inside Tenpenny's room, though he could relocate here, he'd rather not as the place was… Big but not very useful. It would make a better executive suite, it's not like he admired his surroundings or needed the comfort.

He looked around, observing his people as they finished off filling the magazines with rounds, seeming quite into their work. Probably because they were scared of him walking in on them and catching them slacking off, they were in a pretty precarious place after all, what with them having no way out but a fifty ft drop.

"Where're we up to?" Hamilton asked as he stepped inside, peering over the shoulder of the nearest lacky, who just happened to be Neil. From the looks of it, the guns were assembled and the ammo was stocked up.

Despite this, Neil was still quite nervous, he glanced back over his shoulder and gasped at Hamilton's sudden appearance.

"Erm... Y-Yeah, Sir, we're almost good to g-go!" The former raider stammered, pulling a clip and showing him, though Hamilton barely looked at it.

"Good, because we're going to Paradise within the hour." He informed them, pacing around the room.

"We as in..." Neil began, getting a bad feeling about it, that made Hamilton role his eyes.

"No, not you, don't worry yourself..." The Slaver leader uttered, rolling his eyes.

"I'll be taking Becky though, subtlety isn't going to be required... I could use someone who knows how to kill already."

"She's... a little unhinged, hard to control when she gets excited." Neil explained, with a small sigh, glancing down to the table.

"Maybe I should come with you?"

"Don't worry, I'm not taking prisoners and if things get too out of hand, I'll just put her down."

"Erm... Right, it's just that... I think she responds better around me, maybe I could come with you after all? I can handle myself... Somewhat and I'm good at repairing things, what if some equipment gets damaged in the fighting?"

"Then we'll scrap it..." Hamilton shrugged, there wasn't anything by way of equipment worth shitting on... except...

"Actually... There was... Something that I might need you for, the slave collar system has probably been taken down and scrapped, so we'll need a new one set up. Think you can do that?"

Neil stopped to think about it, he hadn't much experience with such things but it sounded straight forward enough...

"S-Sure... I can work it out at least, can't promise immediate results but I should have something up and running in..." He paused to do a rough calculation.

"About a week?"

Hamilton shrugged, it would probably take that long to get a known professional out anyway, so that didn't bother him too much.

"Alright... The rest of you need to get these guns bagged up and ready in the lobby in fifteen minutes. I'm goin' to let the others know."

"What about the Prisoner?"

"Fuck him, he isn't going anywhere, not after Clover's hospitality." To be honest, Hamilton was still a little pissed about that but at least he got what he wanted out of the shit kicking cowboy.

"I'm going to go and round up the lucky few..." He sighed, stepping on over to, what used to be, Tenpenny's front door. He stepped out with a sigh and took his hat off with a sigh, running his hand through his hair as he took several deep breaths...

As he took several deep breaths, he began to hear the static, slowly building up, slowly getting louder and drowning out everything around him...

"_Yankee, Hotel, Foxtrot..."_

The voice inside his head was female, chinese, it sounded incredibly mono, like it was coming off of an old world pre-holotape audio recording. It was in monotone, slowly being repeated over and over again, each time sending a sickening feeling to his stomach as the feedback of the recording changed in depth and tempo as well as volume.

Hamilton stumbled towards the front door of his apartment, snatching at the wall as he dragged his hand along the wall, grabbing at the door handle as forced it open, stumbling inside and almost falling to his knees.

"_Group 1 0"_

His bucket of bolts butler slowly hovered over to him, hovering just in front of him as it began to adjust its eye. He could tell that it was trying to communicate with him but all he could hear was static, he was completely deaf and didn't have time for its inane questions.

"_November, India, Sierra, Victor, November..."_

_Shut up! __**Shut up!**_

"_Uniform, Hotel, November, Foxtrot, Yankee..." _

_None of this shit even means anything, shut up!_

Hamilton stumbled inside the bathroom and threw himself over the sink, quickly turning on the taps and repeatedly splashing his face. It would seem that the water was causing the static to die down or maybe the recording was close to finishing...

"_Zulu, Lima, November, Zulu, Foxtrot..."_

The voice and the static that came with it slowly faded away as Hamilton slid down the wall, shivering, his trembling hand hung over his knee as he took a seat on the floor, shivering on his own as he waited for this infernal gibberish to end.

"_November, Tango... Uniform..."_

The static signal finally dispersed, leaving Hamilton with his own thoughts once more, allowing the sounds of the real world to come back. The first sound was that of Godfrey's thrusters, a sound that made him somewhat miss the mobilizing static.

Fucking machines, raping his ears...

Hamilton eventually sighed and rose to his feet, stretching as he did so and shaking his head before looking over to what remained of the mirror. He noticed that his moustache was slightly stained with blood, that was slowly leaking from his nose.

He saw fit as to correct the mistake, quickly wiping it with his finger before rubbing it off, furiously with his thumb. It was a miracle that he was able to slip out of that old bitch's control but it would seem that part of the psychotronic brainwashing still lived on, like a tumor in his subconscious.

It had been two years since he arrived in New York, a place heavily controlled by Communist insurgents. He, like many others, was subjected to their mind altering techniques but was able to come around in time. He still wasn't sure how he broke free, if it was his regenerative abilities or... something else. Whatever it was, he was living on borrowed time.

He couldn't even go back and ask those chinese mother fuckers to fix his head, what with Mother Ching Chong Cunt Face being little more than a stain on the burned carpet of her fucked camp. Hamilton would love to take credit for it, he really would but it wasn't entirely down to him. Killing their Matriach sufficed, however, he got a bit of personal revenge and did the world a service in the same master stroke. It wasn't often that he had days as good as that.

"Master Hamilton?" Godfrey asked, getting his attention again.

"Might I say that you seem a little... Under the weather... May I suggest that you see the physician before you go?"

"No, you may not and you can keep that shit to yourself. I mean it, if you tell another living soul what happened in here, I'll have you recycled into a vibrator and see to it personally that you're delivered to Underworld. Do I make myself clear!?" Hamilton snapped, knowing that this getting out would undermine his authority. He didn't want to appear weak, he wasn't weak, all he had was a condition, like epilepsy or some shit and it was temporary, until he could find someone who understood these sorts of things.

"Very well Sir, I will keep up the utmost discretion..." Godfrey uttered, seeming insulted by Hamilton's apparent need to threaten him, when he posed no threat to his secret.

"I'll keep things in order whilst you're away..."

Hamilton rolled his eyes and stepped out of his apartment, pulling the door shut behind him and locking it with the key. He immediately hung his head, sighed and stepped on over to the elevator. If he wasn't stressed enough already, being trapped in that death trap will do the trick...

With a loud but tolerable 'bong,' the elevator doors opened and Hamilton couldn't step out through them fast enough. He marched on over, to the front desk, where one of his 'security officers' awaited him.

"Hey, you know these people pretty well, right?" Hamilton asked, making the man at the desk jump as he swivelled around to face him.

"Wha-? Yeah... Wh-Why?"

"I need a team of six people who aren't likely to blow their own nuts off and who preferably can read as well as Becky to be assembled in the lobby. Can you do that?"

"Sure, I know a few guys like that... Consider it done."

"Good, I'll get a drink whilst I wait..." The Slaver informed him, sighing heavily as he scratched the back of his neck...

_Calm the nerves..._

Denis stepped out of the basement, donning the Guard's uniform. He didn't like leaving his Regulator duster behind but it was his own damn fault for how careless he was earlier.

He quickly holstered the assault rifle and began his ascent up the stairs, the way out was literally a foot away from the stairway. He and Jynx had to walk fast and** not** draw too much attention to themselves...

The two of them marched on over to the gate, drawing their rifles. Thankfully the gate guard was looking the other way as they left and hadn't noticed them leave the basement.

"Follow my lead..." He whispered to his younger companion, who already was out of fear of screwing up on her own and getting herself killed... or worse...

The two of them approached the gate guard and stopped just short of him, he didn't seem to be paying much attention to them as he slowly ready through his book. The book was a manual on Chinese Stealth Operations, it baffled Denis as to why this guy would need it as he looked like he couldn't sneak up on someone who was both blind and deaf without giving his position away. His frame was so big and his block head didn't look like it contained a surprisingly brilliant brain either...

"Excuse me, could open the gate?" Denis asked, seeming like he was in a hurry, the guard slowly looked up and put his book to one side.

"Erm... Why?"

"Hamilton said that there was a caravan coming through this way, he said he wanted us to flag them down." The Lone Wanderer shrugged, folding his arms and veering off to the side.

"He said we'd need some stimpaks, we don't have much by way of medical supplies, just the stuff that we looted from the doctor's office." He continued to explain, scratching his head as he noticed how disinterested he was.

"I didn't ask for your life story, fuck!" The Guard grumbled, looking over to the intercom before reaching over for it and hitting the switch, activating the front gate as it slowly dragged open.

"Alright, let's move!" He said, doing his best to sound as military like as possible. Jynx just nodded and followed him out as the two of them began to run off into the wastes.

Hamilton knocked a glass of whiskey to the back of his throat, relishing in its burning sensation as he swallowed it. He shook his head furiously, trying to shake the skeletons out of it...

Part of him wondered if he could have forced that old biddy to fix him but, then again, she probably wouldn't know what she was doing either. Hamilton wasn't exactly your prime specimen when it came to humanity. To some he was more of an abomination than a ghoul, it was probably impossible for a normal human to recover from such psychowave therapy, without any kind of third party support...

He slowly knocked the rest of his drink back before turning his glass over and putting it down on the bar. He didn't want to get drunk before an assault, even if the whiskey would be out of his system by the time that they reached Paradise Fa- Paradise, he still didn't like the risk of being under the influence as he began his campaign.

As he turned around he noticed that Clover was slowly walking towards him, despite their encounter, less than an hour ago, in the basement, she didn't' seem remotely intimidated from the sight of him.

"Your squad's all set up for you lover, six guys and gals are eager to get rollin'... Of course, you never said what's goin' to happen to little old me during all of this." She replied, pouting at his neglect. Hamilton, however, wasn't exactly amused.

"You're going to stay here and make sure that things don't go to shit, whilst I'm taking back our base of operations."

"Aww... I don't get to join in the fun?" Clover whined, looking up to him.

"Could you at least get me something nice this time?"

"Well, if that prisoner remains unharmed, I might just ravish you in celebration." The Slaver uttered, with a grin, stepping towards her and slowly wrapping his arms around her waist. His slave seemed rather aroused by this and allowed her to pull her in, looking up into his eyes.

"I'll be waitin' honey... I haven't been eaten out in a good, long time..."

_Given where she'd been waiting for me, I think that's for the best..._

Hamilton gently locked lips with her and gave her a deep, passionate kiss. It had been a while since he'd done this...

It wasn't like he **needed** to do it but...

It was a nice bit of reverence.

He gave her a bit of satisfaction before pulling away, giving her a faint smile before wandering off to the lobby. It felt strange, how he felt like he had been waiting so long for this, when it wasn't any more than a week at most. Perhaps it was because they were about to end an Era.

He stepped on over to his eagerly awaiting soldiers, well, if they were soldiers their titles belonged in massive sarcasm quotes but they'll do. They could shoot and only one of them was frothing from the mouth...

"Alright, let's go! Move out people!" He announced, getting a nod of confirmation as he began to usher them out. He glanced back to Ten- No... Let's be honest, with Tenpenny dead and Philips being a stain on the carpet... This place needed rebranding.

Hamilton looked back at his tower with a proud smile, at least the closest to proud that he could feel before the Slaver slowly followed his comrades. Finally, a battle worth fighting...

He was quite surprised by the folks who took over this place had no idea about the tunnel, leading up to the sewer. At least, that was the impression that he got as nobody seemed to be guarding it.

This place was so poorly guarded, so many blind-spots in the patrol. Hamilton would just assume that they were sloppy to begin with but given how... calm things were these days, they didn't exactly have any threats to worry about. Beasts just ran towards you, they didn't plan ahead and Raiders weren't much smarter.

It would seem that he would be the storm that ended the calm...

Hamilton dropped down, pulling the latch back on his Chinese assault rifle. They strongly resembled the AK47, a reliable weapon that was often overlooked due to its lack of elegance and it's poorer accuracy. But who needs accuracy, when you're spraying a room full of bullets?

Not much had changed from the Cold War, the American Assault rifles offered little by way of damage or reliability. It would seem that some things never changed...

Hamilton glanced back over his shoulder, seeing that Becky was the only one who wasn't carrying a firearm. He offered her one but she didn't seem to show any interest in it, which was fine by him, it meant that she'd waste less bullets.

Neil was insistent on using a pistol, a 9mm, not commonly found on the east coast. He wasn't a fan of any weapons that weighed more than he did and as a result, he insisted on using side arms. Again, it was of no concern to Hamilton, given that he wasn't exactly planning on using Neil as his advanced guard... not unless he wanted to see something amusing at least.

"Alright people, keep moving forward, form a formation around Neil and cover him, we'll need him if they have any turrets or terminals up ahead." The Slaver informed them, raising his rifle as two slavers stepped in by his side, acting as his wingmen.

The tunnel was cold, dark and dank, he could hear water slowly dripping in the distance, it's echo filled the pipeline. Hamilton took a deep breath before stepping deeper inside, not wanting to be breathing too heavily in case it drowned out someone or something sneaking up on him. These tunnels hadn't been used in a while and it was more than possible that someone or something had moved in, in the meantime.

The Slaver to the left of him insisted on breathing out of his mouth, rather loudly as well. It was beyond annoying but he didn't have enough men or bullets to kill him, so he figured he'd put up with it for now...

As they reached deeper into the tunnels, they noticed something far ahead... Small red dots in the dark. This made Hamilton furrow his brow before widening his eyes.

"**Down, NOW!"**

He quickly threw himself to the floor as his comrades followed, all but the mouth breather who just stood gaping at the red lights, not being able to put two and two together as they all began to beep. Three strobe-like flashes lit up the tunnel, turning the mouth breather into a cloud of red mist as hour mark VII turrets all blasted him at once, with high calibur bullets.

Hamilton simply squeezed the trigger, blasting at the turret with as many shots as he could muster before having to reload, sending one of the three turrets into disrepair.

He quickly pulled the magazine out of his assault rifle, tossing it to one side as he drew another. He was quite comfortable for Ammo, having around eight rounds all together and six for Marcia.

As he clipped the next round into the bottom of his gun, he noticed that something flew over his head. He didn't get a good look at it but it looked like some sort of grenade. He quickly pulled his head down, burying his face in the floor as the grenade detonated into a large bubble of pulsating energy that managed to fry the circuits of both turrets, reducing them to a steam pile of scrap metal.

Hamilton wasted no time before rising to his feet, he quickly glanced back to make sure that nobody else was dead, fortunately only the idiot was lost in that ambush.

"I didn't even know that we pulse grenades..." He muttered as Neil quickly scrambled to his feet, grabbing the mouth breather's rifle.

"W-We didn't, I made it." Neil replied, slowly drawing it from his pocket.

"N-Not as much range as normal pulse grenades, does more damage though..."

"Well, alright... Maybe we have a use for you after-all..." One of the slavers mocked, a biker looking bloke in a leather vest, cigarette packet lodged in his sleeve.

"Keep hold of that rifle Neil, even if you don't use it, I don't want it left here. Take his ammo as well." Hamilton insisted, looking back to the others.

"All of you, be more careful, we're already a man down which is pathetic! I swear, if any of you die from here on out, I'll see to it that your corpses decorate the front gate."

With that... motivational speech, Hamilton turned away and began to walk towards the ladder in the sewer, ascending up to the top.

Hamilton pushed the drainage grate upwards, only to find that it didn't budge. He furrowed his brow and tried again, pushing it with as much strength as he could muster.

Other than the fact that his shoulder was still quite stiff, the grate didn't seem to be movable at all. It seemed that whoever had locked it also sealed it somehow, making entry near impossible.

"Shit!" Hamilton growled, pushing the grate again, just to make sure that he wasn't missing something. But no, he wasn't, it was like it had been glued down or something. It wasn't moving, that was for damn sure.

"Oh for fuck's sake..." He uttered, hopping down from the ladder and turning back, pushing one of the slavers out of his way as he drew Marcia. If he couldn't do it the stealthy way, he might as well do it the hard way...

"Stay here, all of you and stay away from the grate as well, I'm going to find some way to destroy that mother fucker..."

"Wait, you're going alone!?" One of the Slavers asked, a woman with a shaved head who looked incredibly confused by this, she didn't sign up to sit around in some shit hole whilst one guy went up to the surface and got to have all of the fun.

Hamilton didn't bother to dignify her with a response, what did the stupid fuck up think that he was doing? Instead he hopped onto the ladder, climbing out of the drainage ditch and drawing his assault rifle.

This wasn't going to be easy... but boy it was going to be fun...

Hamilton quickly marched over to the three guardsmen, stood around the entrance, his hand practically crushed Marcia as his finger wrapped around the trigger. The Grunts stopped talking to one another and slowly turned towards him, seeing that something was up.

"Hey buddy, can w-" Hamilton cut him off, he figured that he could help but dying, being the first to get his brains splattered along the dirt road. The second merc raised his rifle but quickly met the same fate, Hamilton was considerably quicker at drawing and a **lot** more accurate one would have to be to survive the roads of the East Coast...

He then heard a gunshot echo out across the land and saw that a bullet flew straight past his arm, he grunted and threw himself down to the ground, getting behind cover as he slowly drew a silver spoon from his back pocket, holding it up and seeing what could possibly have shot at him.

A Sniper. In a tower, stacked on the fence. This would prove tricky...

He quickly scrambled to his feet and began to run for the gate, breaking into a sprint and doing everything in his power to fight the discomfort of the sun beating down on him.

_3...2...1..._

A shot echoed, prompting Hamilton to jump as the bullet hit the ground beneath his feet, he heard it whiz past his ankle, kicking up a small dust storm on impact. As he hit the floor, he noticed that several guardsmen were stood around the sandbags by the gate, all of which started to fire as him as the alarm began to blare out across the camp, alerting everyone to his intrusion.

Hamilton quickly raised Marcia and took a shot at the first guard's head as he ran over to the nearest bit of cover. The Guardsmen quickly began to fire back, giving Hamilton no chance to move. He did his best to count the shots, though a lot of the shots sounded like two shots, maybe even three but he knew that they could only hold 24 rounds in each clip and all three were senselessly fired into the sandbag at once.

Hamilton took his chance, leaping up to his feet and emptying his own clip into the three of them, eight bullets for each guard to make sure that they definitely fell. Fortunately, they weren't wearing armour, even Tenpenny's chicken shit mall cops had the sense to do that, which really did show how capable these guys were.

Not wanting to risk getting shot, Hamilton rushed on over to the gate and threw himself against it, sending the door flying open as he stumbled inside. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and made a break for what used to be the save pen. It all felt so... different, it was difficult to figure out what used to be what as most of the metalic structures had been taken down. It looked better in all honesty, not as cluttered or as shitty looking.

He began his sprint over to the pens, hopping over the cluttered bits of debris that were left along the ground, quickly raising his handgun and taking a shot at anyone stupid enough to get in his way. He didn't care about killing them, not yet at least, he just wanted them to get the fuck out of his way, so that he could reach the slave pens.

It was then that he felt it, a loud tremor that almost knocked him straight off of his feet, stumbling to his left. The Earth itself shook in recognition as the heavy boots of a power armoured guard came into contact with the ground.

Hamilton quickly looked around, seeing a Black-Devil power armoured guardsman, only it wasn't as black anymore. It would seem that they gave it a new paint job, making it white instead now. Not as tactically sound, they weren't in alaska where most of the white power armour was used but it wasn't like people wore power armour with subtlety in mind.

Hamilton quickly rushed forward, hopping over the dozens of lasers shot at his feet, the heat of which felt like he was being exposed to a small and brief sunlounger as his legs just narrowly avoided them.

The Slaver quickly barged into the tent with the supplies in, he couldn't go anywhere else, he'd surely be vaporised but he knew that he had essentially cornered himself. There had to be something that he could use, maybe a precision laser for cutting through tissue or something? **Anything?**

The Footsteps could be heard outside as the power armoured troopers closed in on him, Hamilton looked frantically from side to side, looking for any means of breaking open the drainage system... But he had no options presented to him, not unless he was going to break it open with the needle of a stimpak...

Hamilton drew his handgun, taking a look at it as he swallowed hard... He only had one option, an option that was much better than waiting to die...


	14. Hemridge

**A:N/ Just wanted to say that I had a little trouble with this chapter, I've had a very unexpected and very sudden bereavement in the family, which has caused a lot of things to be difficult.**

**It shouldn't have affected things too much, sorry if there are any major mistakes, there shouldn't be as I've given it a quick look over but concentrating on things has gotten difficult over the past few days. I hope to iron out any difficulties when I'm in a better frame of mind.**

* * *

The powered footsteps of the power armoured guards grew louder and louder as they drew in. Hamilton knew that he had mere seconds before they would be upon him, prompting him to run over to the sewer grate.

"Move back!" He bawled down the grid before stepping back. He quickly raised his gun, seeing the shadow of the power armoured guard as he grew closer, the shadow occupied more floor space as they got further into the tent.

Much to Hamilton's frustration, the guard entered facing him, side stepping like a crab. He quickly fired a round from his assault rifle at the intruder, who quickly threw himself down onto the ground to avoid it.

Hamilton had one advantage as he was a lot more agile than his power armoured foe. Knowing this, he scrambled to his feet, running on. He ran rings around the armoured guard as he pressed the gun against the fusion core and repeatedly pulled the trigger.

After shooting the fusion core to shilo, Hamilton threw himself forward and shoulder barged the guard's back, causing him to stumble forward and fall on the sewer grate. His fusion core began to emit an alarm, a quick beeping, which grew more rapid in succession as he grew closer to exploding, like a frag mine.

The Guard frantically squirmed on the ground, he unfortunately didn't have enough time to rise to his feet, hell, Hamilton barely had enough time to sprint away from his walking bomb before it detonated.

The Tent quickly went up in flames, throwing Hamilton out of it and causing him to land with a thud on the ground. He rolled several feet away from the entrance, stopping on his back as he looked up at the crowd, a crowd of disgusted faces, who were all eager to put an end to him.

A guardsman glared down at him, clearly a veteran, given the heavy damage done to his face. He narrowed his eyes as he raised his pistol, towards Hamilton's head and wrapped his finger around the trigger.

It was instinct on Hamilton's part but he quickly closed his his eyes as the shot rang out, he had few seconds to think about what was important to him.

He struggled to think of a thing worth living for. Well, apart from a will to survive. Everything else was transitory in his eyes, people, things, places... it all turned to ash as it should in due time.

His mind took him back two years, back to New York. He had wandered its streets for days, Garry's blood still stained on his hands.

Garry used to be one of his. A Slaver or at least he wanted to be but he grew soft on one of the slaves, fucking her wasn't enough, oh no, he wanted to marry her and liberate her. Like this was before the bombs fell, before the world plummeted into an endless, chaotic, pointless struggle.

Sans had a bit of a grudge against Hamilton, to put it lightly. Presumably because he needed a boogie man. An untouchable figure, who can have blame placed at his feet.

The US had the Chinese, Commonwealth has the Institute, hell even his people had Denis.

Really though, fault lies with those who screw up. Your job is to protect what's yours, whether it be your land, your stuff, your woman... to blame anyone else is just... irresponsible.

New York's boogie-men had just been terminated, the people's Republic of China. That joke died when that old bitch's head exploded like a water melon that had been hit with a sledgehammer. Christ, that was a good show, shame that he couldn't take the psychograph with him.

Hamilton was grateful that these guards were, for the most part, inexperienced. His people weren't exactly the US army. They were barely better in terms of equipment and most of them were doped up to the eyeballs.

Becky ran over to the nearest power armour and furiously threw herself at it, driving the nails on her pool cue into his exposed head. His comrades began to shoot at the power armoured men. Several shotgun blasts to his chest.

Hamilton quickly sat up and took aim at the guard, putting several .45 rounds into him. The armour took a great deal of physical damage due to the proximity of the short range blasts.

Several small cracks appeared on the chest of the power armour, from where the scattered blast of a shotgun had repeatedly hit it. It wasn't exactly sturdy stuff to begin with, low grade T-45 as commonly found in DC as most of the good stuff had been shipped off to Alaska.

The power armoured guards fought back and raised their rifles, shooting them at the nearest of the three gun men, well, the nearest ones that were right up and already in their line of sight anyway.

The guards comrades quickly raised their rifles and open fired, disintegrating one of the slavers, the biker, who saw fit as to mock Neil's pulse grenades, on impact.

"Neil!" Hamilton yelled, rolling up to his feet and putting several rounds into the nearest power armour.

"Pulse nade, **now!**"

Neil quickly fumbled around his back pocket, he drew one of his home made electo magnetic bombs and threw it, straight at the feet of the armour.

Hamilton made a dash to the left as the suits went haywire and their joints locked up. Taking advantage of their misfortune, Hamilton ran around the back of the nearest Power Armour and emptied his gun into their back.

This sent the fusion core pulsing and ready to blow.

Hamilton turned back and threw himself down to the ground. He slid across the gravel as the rest of the Paradise Guard jumped up from behind cover and began to shoot. Hamilton, desperate to escape the line of fire, dragged himself to his feet and began to limp over to, what used to be, Eulogy's pad.

"C'mon!" He screamed, practically straining his vocal chords to be heard over the gunfire. Neil, Becky and the other remaining slaver ran after him, doing their best to duck and dodge the bullets.

The remaining slaver received dozens of shots to the head, some were targeted, others were stray rounds. Either way, their head was practically liquefied.

Nobody turned back as the contents of their head decorated the floor, spilling out as the Slaver's torso landed in a heap on the ground, like a pan full of grits.

Hamilton shoulder barged the front door open and stumbled inside, he drew his gun. He extended his arm and pointed it at the first person he saw, however, to his surprise they weren't even armed. In fact, the familiar looking doctor threw her hands in the air.

"Stop!" Doctor Cushing screamed as she slowly knelt down in front of him, hands slowly lowering onto her head.

"We surrender! W-We're unarmed, many of us are too sick or injured to fight!"

"Good, that should save us some bullets..." Hamilton decided as he ran on, making his way over to the nearest stairwell, drawing his assault rifle as he made his way up.

"Becky, barricade the front door!

Neil, take care of the hostages, shoot any that try talking to you!" Hamilton ordered as he pulled the latch back on his rifle and kicked the balcony door open.

He stepped out, rifle propped up, stock buried in his shoulder as he took aim on the camp. He quickly wrapped his finger around the trigger, identifying his targets, who were stumbling back, away from the pad, looking up in awe or fear as he took aim.

Before they could react, he open fired on the guardsmen.

* * *

Harden sat on a chair, high upon the balcony, above Megaton's front gate. He sort of liked being on watch as it meant actually doing something useful in the never ending fight to protect this community.

It was during this time that he couldn't let his mind wander. Dad wouldn't let him... For all the good that it did him. He wondered often, about becoming Sheriff one day. Jericho said that Harden would likely get the job, when the old Raider retired. The guy was nearly 70, after-all, much to Harden's shock and amazement.

He was destined to take up a star one day. He's something like three years from taking up that role and becoming the first proper sheriff since his Dad was gunned down in that shit hole saloon.

He would ask if he was ready but he already knew, he couldn't be, not really, nobody was, not him, not Denis, not anyone.

You do what you think is right and try not to get too many people killed in the process. Denis did that and sure, he got the Sheriff, Hardin's Father, killed but he learned and used those lessons to become a true hero.

That brought Hardin comfort... as in non at all.

How do people, who's carelessness cost people their lives, how do **these **people walk free?

How are they not the ones who suffer? Why was it the ones, like him, who had to clean up the mess, pick up the pieces and carry on, whilst people like Denis just swan about, acting like they own the place with a smile.

The world was an unfair, unbalanced and uncaring place.

Denis sprinted across the landscape, he was somewhat desperate to reach it in time, although he didn't want to abandon Jynx.

This was why he worked alone, others just got in his way, slowed him down or worse, died in his care.

He looked up, seeing that the city of Megaton drew in closer with every step.

"Hardin!" Denis called out.

By now the sweat had caused his shirt to stick to him, like a second, less comfortable skin.

"Open the gate!"

Harden quickly glanced over to the direction of the yelling, he saw both Denis and Jynx sprinting towards the city.

The Deputy looked over his shoulder, glancing down to the gate keeper.

"Open the gate!" He yelled, frantically, prompting the others to start pulling the gates open.

With a loud creek, the gates slowly opened, though their incoming guests were a long way off and only just made it as they did. Without a further word, Denis sprinted inside the city, heading straight up to the Saloon, just hoping that that drunken asshole wasn't too wasted to do his job...

Denis burst into Gob's saloon, seeing the familiar sight of an old, washed up Raider in green combat armour, cowboy hat perched on his head. It **really** didn't suit him, especially not on his own but it was the only part of Simm's uniform that he was willing to wear, along with the badge.

"Jericho!" he snapped, trying to get his attention. In spite of his urgent tone, the former Raider just knocked back his whiskey before looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah? What the fuck do you want now?"

His attitude quickly changed as Denis marched over to him, stepping right beside him, towering over him.

"I want the armoury." He said, firmly. Glancing back to the door, looking right past Jynx, who timidly shrank in the corner of the room.

"The... You fuckin' kiddin' me? Don't have... Fuck, your house is better stocked than that place, why do you want that!?"

"There isn't time Jericho, everyone in this town needs to be armed with a gun and I need at least half of them for a militia."

"M-Mili- Have you gone fuck-" He stopped, looking over his shoulder, directly at Jynx, who seemed guilty of something.

"What the hell did **you** do to him!?"

"I didn't do **anything!** Just listen to him, we're in danger! Some guy Hamilton is..."

"Hamilton?" Jericho asked, cutting him off as he fell silent, looking down to the ground, taking the atmosphere of the room with him as he processed this.

"Shit..." He uttered, quickly jumping up to his feet and marching over to the front door.

"Zombie, get everyone in town to meet! Don't give a fuck how you do it, everyone, round the bomb, ten minutes!

Anyone who isn't out of their fuckin' house is gonna die in it!"

With that, Jericho stormed out, marching over to the Armoury with Denis following hurriedly behind, not even noticing that Jynx was no longer following.

"Jesus, Denis, do you know what kind of shit storm you've brought to this fuckin' place?" He grumbled, reaching down for his keys.

"I'd hand you over to him, if I thought it would do **us** any good."

Denis paused as Jericho eventually fumbled for the keys, they clattered in his hands as he tried to find which of the three keys was the one for the armoury. The rest of the key ring was decorations, a fake Nuka Cola cap, a small T-Rex and a small gift shop picture of Elvis Presley.

With a click, Jericho looked back to Denis, though his despair quickly turned to anger as he saw that the Regulator was just grinning at him. Obviously, he didn't appreciate the fact that Denis was getting a kick out of this, when for him and everyone else, everything was going to shit.

"What the fuck are you laughin' at?"

"You..." Denis admitted, without any hesitation.

"You've gone native."

Jericho paused, wondering what that meant for a moment before frowning and giving Denis one of his grubby fingers in response.

"Fuck you..." He uttered, stepping inside the armoury and getting a quickly chuckle out of the Regulator as the two of them stepped inside.

* * *

The Dust slowly settled after the skirmish, despite having better numbers, the Guards stood little to no chance against their superior opponent. As the gunshots died down, many of the hostages looked up to the ceiling, waiting for the result of the firefight but somehow, they already knew...

God, Hope... Justice... All of them had left them to whatever fate their captors had in store. Neil remained silent, pulling the slider back on his gun, whilst Becky just hummed to herself, like a manic child. Needless to say, this didn't do the nerves of some of the more fragile hostages any good.

The balcony door suddenly opened as Hamilton returned inside, taking his first step down the long stairway, each step emitted a small thud as his combat boots hit the floor. The weak, the sick, the old and desperate all huddled together in their corner, watching as his boots appeared in sight.

"Becky?" He asked, hopping off of the last step and turning to her. Marcia hung loosely by his side, still smoking from being recently fired...

Becky hopped off of the counter and rushed over to his side, jumping like she was doing hop scotch towards the end and stopping just short of him.

"Yep!?"

Hamilton just stood, staring, this looked good... Having a weak nerd and this crazy bitch by his side, still, his massacre should spread the message that he isn't to be fucked with for the people of Paradise, the people of DC but most importantly, his own people.

"Go back to Tenpenny tower, tell half of our people to get their asses down here. Clover stays put, anyone essential to the tower stays put, the rest I want here."

"Got it!" Becky chirped, doing a mock salute before running off getting the Slaver to roll his eyes and furiously scratch at the back of his head, slowly wandering over to the survivors as he waited for that insane clown bitch to finally fuck off and leave him to it.

The door slammed shut behind her, the rattle was the last noise in the room before they were left with total silence. Everyone looked up, eager to hear what was in store for them. Not out of anything but dread...

"Alright, I'm only going to say this once... From this point on, you have no rights. No freedoms. Nothing that you can call your own. You do what we say, when we say it and if you don't, you'll be joining your friends out there on a large bonfire only you won't be lucky enough to have died before we light it.

Do I make myself abundantly clear?"

Nobody even nodded, they were too afraid to say or do anything, it was obvious that he was just itching to make an example out of someone, the first person to talk out of turn...

"Good..." He concluded, looking to Neil and giving him a nod.

"Same as before, anyone talks out of turn..." He said, slowly raising his pistol up to a random Hostage, locking him in his sites before pulling the trigger. The hammer was pulled back, resulting in a loud 'click,' which caused several people to jump out of their skin, half of them screamed in shock.

"Gotcha..." Neil uttered, nervously, though in truth, he didn't want to shoot anyone. Not anyone innocent at least...

Hamilton slowly walked away from his prisoners, heading straight over to the front door, it was there that he stepped outside, sighing heavily as he holstered his gun and drew his machete, slowly looking up to the sky.

The dust was still high up in the air from all of the gun shots, the skirmish created a nice atmosphere... well, nice to a war-born monster, like Hamilton. He observed the sky above for a few moments, watching as several birds began to circle, scavengers, waiting for an opportunity to swarm in and take what they could from the dead.

Of course, Hamilton wasn't very charitable towards others, least of all birds that feast off of the scraps of others. Being a predator himself, he understood the laws of the wilderness, the most simple laws to ever be established.

Survival of the fittest, to whom the spoils belong...

Hamilton's trail of thought was quickly cut short as he heard groaning, coming from one of the guards. The guard slowly lifted his hand up, slowly waving it around as he struggled to breathe. He was annoying, so Hamilton decided to cut what little life he had left short...

He slowly drew his machete and wandered over to the man's side, standing over him with an irritable sigh.

If only others would get with the program...

With that, he drove the blade down, straight into his enemies head... One less loose end tied up.

One more victory for him...

Paradise was no longer, it had been reclaimed by those who founded it. Those to whom it rightly belonged...

Paradise Falls.

* * *

Megaton's citizens gathered around the bomb, arguing among themselves as to why they were even there. They were left in suspense for a good fifteen minutes before they heard the sound of a shopping cart, being rolled along the steel walkway. The sound of it slowly broke through the tensions, surrounding the bomb and the noise only got worse as the town Sheriff and the only Regulator Resident began to drive it over gravel.

Everyone watched, bewildered as the two of them drove the carts over to their side, whilst he had their attention, Denis quickly abandoned his cart and hopped onto the atomic bomb, using it as a platform to elevate himself.

"Everyone? Can I have you attention please!?" He called out, waving his hands across and meeting their gaze.

Silence fell as the crowd waited for him to speak, Jericho used this as an opportunity to light another smoke... This would probably be his eight since he heard Hamilton's name, it wasn't often that he smoked to calm his nerves either.

"Thank you..." He said, rather pleasantly as he did a quick headcount. Everyone seemed to be here, as far as he could see anyway.

Denis stood over the people of Megaton, pausing as he thought of what to say. Naturally, it didn't take him long.

"I apologise for prying you away from your routines and lives, believe me when I say that it wasn't a decision I made lightly." He stopped, pausing just quick enough to jump in before anyone started yelling.

A few people scoffed at that, finding it difficult to believe that he was losing any sleep over interrupting their daily routine.

"But you may be in danger, we may **all** be in danger."

"What are you talking about!?" A Settler yelled, getting a few people riled up and asking inane questions.

"Something is coming, a movement, aiming to re-establish the slave trade in the Captial Wasteland.

They're lead by a man named 'Hamilton.' He's a ruthless, capable leader, without limits. I'm not sure what he's planning but he has already taken Ten-... Philip's Tower. He killed a lot of it's residents and forced the rest into the wastes, with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

He's on his way to Paradise, now I know that they are pretty well defended but I know that Hamilton has the numbers and the arms necessary to take it.

Assuming that he only has one of these places, I can't take it by myself. I need as many citizens as possible to help me mount an assault."

Everyone quickly stated their opinions in unison, most of them were negative.

"We ain't an army!"

"What are we supposed to fight with!?"

"Get the Brotherhood!"

Denis sighed, heavily. He was done with the Brotherhood, he had no intentions of speaking to them again, never mind setting foot inside the Citadel.

"This is outside of their jurisdiction..."

In truth, it wasn't. The Brotherhood had few limits on what was or wasn't their jurisdiction.

They weren't exactly unwilling to help either, hell, Denis would call turning their help away illogical, if they were anyone else.

The Brotherhood weren't' to be trusted. They had their own agenda, any good that they did was purely for their own, personal gain.

Though, didn't everyone have their own agenda?

"I'll speak to the Brotherhood but I need people that I can count on. Please, lives depend on this."

"They ain't getting' over these walls!" one of the Settlers jeered, getting a glare from Andy Stahl.

"They don't have to, they can starve us out. We'd be okay for water but one Brahmin can't produce enough food for all of us.

And no supplies will be coming either..."

"That's why we need to hit them before they hit us. There are dozens of people in that tower, they will be few in number and ill prepared. We can go in and clean them out." Denis assured them, though no one was convinced, not really.

"What happens if we can't get inside?" The first Settler asked, prompting Jericho to pull a brick of C4 from the shopping cart.

"We blow their walls to fuck with this." He shrugged, waving it around. Everyone looked nervously to one another, until a Megaton Settler stepped forward.

"I'm in." She said, firmly, getting a gracious nod and a smile from the Regulator.

"_Thank you..."_ He mouthed before looking to the others. A few more Settlers stepped forward, along with Billy Creel, Andy Stahl and Leo Stahl.

"Alright..." Denis concluded, looking over to the others.

"Everyone not going needs to stay here, they need to stock up on supplies. I also need a runner to go to the Brotherhood of Steel and several other locations.

I'm aware that not all of you are convinced, I just wish that I had the time to convince you but Hamilton is a threat to the Wasteland and it's people, make no mistake.

He might be the biggest threat we've faced since the Enclave, do I even need to remind you of what they wanted to do with you? To wipe you all off of the face of the earth?

We need to be prepared for anything."

Denis slowly slid off of the atomic bomb and walked away from it, leading the volunteers over to it, he took several weapons and handed them out to whoever looked like they could use them.

"Andy, Leo!" Jenny Stahl called, running over to their side and slapping her hands on their shoulders, forcing them to look at her.

"The hell are you two doing!?"

"You heard him, either we got war or war comes to us." Andy explained, pulling the latch back on an assault rifle.

"You can't be serious! Neither of you have fired a gun in your whole lives!" Jenny protested, angrily.

"Well, it's better than waiting for Hamilton to come to us. You heard the stories, you know what he is. You saying that we should just wait for him to come to us?"

"I'm saying that I don't want both of my brothers to be used as cannon fodder in a pointless war against an inhuman psychopath!"

"Fine!" Andy snapped, growing tired of the drama.

"I'll go, leave Leo here!"

"Hell no, I'm coming with you! This was my choice!" Leo protested, seeming just as frustrated as Andy was, only he was annoyed with the both of them.

"Jenny's right, no point in flushing our entire family down the shitter." Andy sighed, glancing over to his younger brother.

"Hamilton's people are going to be spread out anyway, some are going to be at Paradise, the majority, I'm guessing." Denis said, with a shrug.

"I wouldn't be asking for civilian help if I thought that this was going to be a blood bath, we're talking about a small percentage of Hamilton's people being there. We'll be able to take them easily, so long as you keep level heads and do as I say.

We need to take the tower as soon as we can."

"What do we know about them? Armour, guns?" Billy asked, folding his arms and looking intrigued.

"R91 Assault Rifles, light combat armour, maybe a few scavenged weapons, most of which is poor in quality and maintenance." Denis explained as best he could, he never saw their armoury so he had no real idea as to what he should expect.

"You better know what you're doing." One of the settlers grumbled, folding his own arms and narrowing his eyes.

"I do, there's only one way in, using a few grenades and pressure, we can fight our way through.

"What if we run into Hamilton?"

"Fifth Freedom, can't take any chances." Denis answered, sternly.

"Don't take any risks trying to take him though, leave it to me if you can, you people are here as support, heroics could get yourselves and everyone else hurt or worse.

We go in, take out anyone or anything that gets in our way and get back out again."

"What if they see us on the way in?" One of the settlers asked, finding herself to be concerned.

"Then we have to run over to the walls as quickly as possible. It's sort of a double edged sword that they have, other than the balcony, they have no lookout posts and no way of shooting over the walls without opening the gate.

"Denis!" Gareth called, rushing over to his side.

"You said you needed runners? People to go into the city? I have a team going out in a few hours, I can give them some extra instructions."

"Good, if you can tell the Brotherhood, in any shape or form, that would be good." The Regulator said, bringing up his pipboy.

"Here, I'll draw you a rough map as to where you can find them. There's an outpost, just outside of Underworld, at the monument. Get a message to them and they can use their H.A.M radio to contact the citadel or at least contact someone who can."

Gareth nodded, placing his hands in his pockets.

"When're **we** heading out?" He asked, putting emphasis and the 'we' to make sure that Denis was aware that he was going.

"Now..." Denis replied, firmly as he began to pace on over to the gate, hand hovering over his revolver.


	15. Endure

**A:N/ I just want to apologise for Chapter 14 being a cluster fuck, I put spaces with '-' marks inbetween them as the line break tool proved inefective at times. Turned out that this was just as good.**

**The moderators really need to fix this problem, since it can still be a problem after you've fixed it. :/ **

**Also, I'd like to commemorate this chapter to my Grandmother, who passed away recently. She gave me a small red book, last year for me to do my writings in, whilst I'm out and about. She had bought it in the 80s, maybe the 70s and kept it all that time before giving it to me. I finished it, writing this chapter and I'm glad that I was able to put it to use and I'm thankful for her dedication and encouragement./**

Clover stepped out of the elevator, looking up at the chandelier for a brief moment as she collected her thoughts.

"Some things don't change..." She sighed, heavily as she felt sympathy pains for herself. She had hoped that she wouldn't have been hit so soon, especially not in front of the prisoners.

Hamilton was... Strange, even those closest to him. She honestly didn't know that much about him, despite being by his side for the best part of two years. He never spoke to her as a person. He barked orders at her, hit her when she did wrong... but...

There was little love in their relationship, not intimate love, which sounded strange as she never thought she'd want that. But she wouldn't exactly protest, those moments, like in the bar? She loved it.

Their relationship could use some work. When he wanted he could be thoughtful, caring even and one time he showed her a side to him that few had ever seen before was something behind the hatred, behind the anger...

In his eyes, that one time, she saw something human.

He was ruthless and cruel but that's what made her safe. No one could touch her so long as he was around.

Safety was a commodity in the wasteland and the best way to beat back a monster is with an even bigger monster.

Clover stepped into the lobby, sawed off shotgun swaying at her bare hips.

_Just a few more hours until he comes back... _She asn't a leader but that wasn't what she was being asked to do. At least she hoped that it wasn't...

It was a bit of a step up, no matter how you looked at it. She was the one giving the orders now, he trusted her. All that she had to do was make sure that nothing went to hell whilst she was on duty.

"Clover?" One of the guardsmen asked as he approached her.

The former slave lifted her head, sighing heavily as she did so.

"Yeah?"

The guard hesitated, obviously it was as a shift addressing a rather burdened woman instead of the harsh tone and glare of Thomas Hamilton.

"Just so you know... We have a situation in the generator room. The prisoners are gone. There's no trace of them."

Clover's eyes widened as she took in the news.

"Shit!" She gasped, pushing the guard to one side as she drew her shotgun, sprinting out of the door. The three of them, Clover and two guards thundered down the stairs. How could this happen? She had only been in charge for half an hour. How could things be this fucked so fast? The guard spoke the truth, there was no sign of either of them. Just two, naked guards in the corner of the room., being seen to for minor injuries.

"They were disguised as us in our uniforms and everything, they just walked out of the building."

"Who was on watch!?

Why the fuck are people walking out of here unchecked!?"

Hell, it wa'n't me! It was Sanchez! They said they were checking the perimetre or some such shit." The Slaver sighed.

"They'll be heading to megaton..."

"Get someone on top of the tower! Give 'em a scoped rifle and tell 'em to keep watch!

I don't want anyone getting' within a mile of this place without getting' their damn heads blown off! We need to be ready for when Hamilton comes back! If the enemy doesn't kill us, Hamilton surely will if we lose to the tower.

Now **fucking move!**"

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen...

It's my sad duty to inform you that Philips tower has fallen. It's people are destitute.

According to eye witness accounts, a lone gunman staying at the tower leveled the place and is now occupying it, squatting with a gang of cutthroats. Now, rumour has it that this lone gunman was in fact Thomas Hamilton. A big player in the slave trade if these rumors are true? The slave trader might not be so dead afterall.

Keep looking out for eachother, if he's back, slavery is bound to follow him his wake and that's the only thing we know for sure.

Thanks for listening, Children! This is Three Dog! Awooooooooo

Your voice in the darkness...

Now for some music that I got imported from a good friend of mine, up in New New York. Make sure that if you ever find your way around those parts, you tune in to Atomic Radio Central!

Anyway, the song's 'Study War no more' by Nat King Cole!"

The Organ music began to play as nat King Cole's singing protected the customer's of Gob's bar from the silence.

Harden sat at the counter, examining the details of the surface. Jynx sat beside him, staring at her swill...

"You ain't drinkin'?" Harden asked, nodding to the beer bottle before glancing up to Jynx's face.

"Nah... Don't have much of a taste for it..." She admitted, with a sigh, though she quickly took a sip anyway, causing her to cringe.

"Urgh!" She gagged, shaking her head, furiously.

"Just want to calm my nerves."

"The Tower?" Harden asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah... It was just a lot to deal with. Getting captured, being held..."

"Did they... Hurt you?" Harden asked, furrowing his brow, seemingly almost immediately enraged at the idea.

"What did they do to you?" He asked again, taking a grip of the Lamplighter's arm.

"Did they...?"

"No, one guy tried to but I stabbed him." She paused, glancing over to Harden and sighing heavily.

"I can take care of myself Harden... If I wanted revenge, I'd take it myself."

"What, so you're just gonna let them walk all over you!?"

"No, I'm letting Denis handle it."

"Bah, Denis couldn't organise a brawl in a Supermutant camp!"

"What? Am I missing something? He's the reason I'm here right now, Harden. He got me out of that tower and I don't mean to open up old wounds but it was **him** who got **me** back here after **you** shot me!"

"Yeah? Well, Iiiii remember him being the reason that you were in that place to begin with!"

"No, I went myself!"

"He got you captured though, right? Almost got you both killed!"

"He **almost** killed Hamilton, he just underestimated him is all."

"That all? You screw up against Hamilton and you end up dead or worse! I can't believe you fucking people! He puts you in danger, treats your lives like nothin' and when he gets someone hurt or killed, y'all make excuses for 'im!"

"Because he's doing good Harden! He pretty much ended the slave trade. He's saved way more lives than he's ended."

"You sure of that? Didn't he get his dad killed? Dozens of Brotherhood Paladins and my Dad? How do you people forget that!?"

Jynx fell silent, glancing up to him wit ha sigh.

"I'm sorry Harden, I had no idea..."

"No, you don't... None of you do." He uttered, resting his head on his hand. There was a long pause as the awkwardness of the situation began to fester, Jynx could feel the resentment festering inside his head as he slowly raised it and looked around the room.

"My Dad died over there...

Gunned down by some madman, who wanted to blow up the town. Guess it kind of backfired... Denis put him down.

Too bad that he wasn't fast enough to save him..."

The Young Deputy sighed, heavily as he Jynx glanced up to his face, with sympathy in her eyes.

"Harden... I'm sorry... I had no idea how... Involved Denis was with your Dad's death."

Harden just nodded and looked away, sighing heavily.

"So, what're we supposed to do?" Harden asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Dunno... We could finish our drinks and..."

"We need to help out with the war effort!" Harden insisted, rising to his feet and knocking his drink back, a decision he almost instantly regretted as he felt his throat burn.

"Wh-What!? How!?" Jnx asked as she jumped to her feet, roling her shoulders back as she did so.

"My Dad..." Harden began as she looked around, immediately making eye contact with the confused Lamplighter before sighing.

"He had some friends near Cantebruy, we should tel lthem about this. They hunt down Slavers and Raiders, like Hamilton. They'll help us...

Help all of us." The Deputy explained, looking over his shoulder before walking away.

"C'mon, I'll explain on the way..."

Jynx rolled her eyes with a knowing smile as she followed him out of the tavern, she just hoped that he knew what he was doing.

* * *

Denis crept over to the wall, over at Tenpenny Tower, well, Philips Tower, though it was arguably Hamilton's tower now. Denis was just considering naming it 'stuck up prick' tower, at least then it would be consistent...

The Regulator, having the most experience with explosives, knelt down and got to work on the C4 as his comrades ran up behind him and looked around, pulling the detonator from his pocket as he looked over his shoulder.

He nodded to Andy, who made a gesture with his hand, prompting Denis to run off to his left, brandishing the detonator and flicking the switch.

With a very loud 'boom' the walls were blown open, leaving a clear passageway into the Tower's courtyard. Denis drew his assault rifle and ran straight through the collapsed wall, drumming bullets across it, not really aiming at anyone, not at this point anyway, he was just hoping to clear it so that his people could muscle in.

Several Slavers came running towards the Regulator, each of them taking hold of their assault rifles and returning fire. 5.56mm rounds were flying left, right and center as the occasional slaver collapsed and fell.

Jeb began blasting shotgun shells at the guardsmen, taking one of them out and forcing the others to retreat, to avoid being shot. Alex quickly ducked in with his Submachine gun, blasting shot after shot at the retreating Slavers as Gareth and Andy stepped in, not even bothering to fire as the others had scared them off.

"Right, we split up! Half of us go left, the rest go right! We regroup at the fountain!"

"What if they make a break through the gate?"

"If they've gone for the gate, they're gone! Let's just focus on taking the tower!" Denis decided, raising his rifle as he strode forward, passing several security guard beds and tents as he made his way through to the front of the courtyard, being followed by Gareth and his scavenger team.

Andy, Leo, Jenny and the Settlers took the passageway to the right as the two groups fought their way to the point that they would converge. It was at this point that a group of Slavers, hidden behind Sandbags, leapt up from behind cover and took the first of their shots at the invaders. Both groups threw themselves at the wall and pressed themselves against it, panting heavily.

"Okay, new plan!" Denis called out as he drew a grenade from his pocket and pulled the pin out with his teeth, tossing it straight at the fountain, so that it was resting in the basin.

"Oh shi-" With an almighty 'boom' Denis and his people were now free to leave cover, they immediately ran ahead, guns blazing at the line of the defence, shooting any of the remaining slavers dead from both angles until a few of them had gone, running straight into the tower.

"You!" He called out to the Stahls, making a gesture with his pipboy hand.

"Gareth's team are coming with me, you lot make a perimeter, shoot anyone that comes out of there that isn't one of us!" Denis called out, getting a stern nod from Jenny, who pulled the latch back on her rifle, prompting the Regulator and his team of scavengers to make a break for the inside of the tower.

* * *

"Everyone, get to the metro tunnel!" Clover called out as she pushed her way through the fleeing Raiders, grabbing a flare gun from the desk and taking it over to the elevators.

"We ain't even gonna **try** to defend this place!?" The Slaver at the desk snorted as he quickly rose to his feet.

"Be my guest asshole but I've been up against this guy before, this ain't a fight we can win unprepared."

The Slaver shook his head and pulled the latch back on his rifle, raising it at the ready.

"You'll see... Bunch of fuckin' pussies, runnin' away from some cowboy and his band of faggot townies..."

Clover sighed and shook her head, stepping inside the elevator and hitting the button, she smiled and nodded to the Slaver as the doors shut.

"Good luck with that..." She said, passive-aggressively as the doors drew to a close...

She remained silent as the elevator shot up, readying her flair gun. She had to fire it off to warn Hamilton, she just hoped that he'd see it... if he was still alive.

She eagerly awaited the 'bing' sound of the elevator as the doors slowly rolled open, allowing her to step out and run to the balcony, she sprinted through Tenpenny's old sweat and took hold of the flair gun as she bursted out, past the watchman.

The former Slave pointed it upwards, quickly pulling the trigger and firing a flair up into the sky. It danced in a spiral, leaving the earth with a loud bang, that scared the everloving shit out of the Watchman as he stepped back in shock.

The two of them watched in awe as the flare flew high up, into the sky before fizzling out, leaving a long trail of white smoke...

_C'mon Lover... We __**need **__you!_

* * *

Hamilton was sat on a deck chair, watching as the weapons were laid out in front of him. Paradise had everything, well, everything commonly found in DC. They were still low on Chinese Assault rifles though, figures...

As Hamilton began to categorize the weapons, he noticed something in the corner of his eye, he glanced over to it, seeing a small trail of smoke rising up in the distance. It was small but incredibly high up, it'd have to be to be that strong...

Of course, the only place that could launch a flair from that high up was... Tenpenny Tower.

Hamilton glanced over his shoulder, panting heavily, what the fuck did he do now? Had Becky made it back yet? Probably not as she only set off a few minutes ago... Neil was on his own with the cattle and breaking in there and informing him could undermine his authority as the others would know that he was watching them alone.

Of course... if Neil does his fucking job and never leaves the room? Hamilton could leave and come back before anyone knew it. It sounded crazy but it seemed like the only possible option.

With that, Hamilton jumped up to his feet and took off, heading straight for the direction of Tenpenny Tower.

* * *

Denis immediately met with resistance as he barged in, through the front door. He raised his chinese assault rifle and open fired upon the opposing force, who were covering their comrades as they made their escape.

"Mother fuckers!" A Slaver, behind the main desk screamed, blasting at them with as many shotgun shells as he could fire before his combat shotgun ran out. Everyone threw themselves to the floor, except for Alex, who was hit square in the chest and spun around in the air, landing with a heavy thud on the floor.

"Alex!" Jeb yelled out, looking back over his shoulder before looking straight ahead and jumping to his feet.

"Jeb!"

"He's out of ammo!" The Scaver called back, readying his own combat shotgun.

_Too bad for him, I have a fresh clip..._

Jeb raised his shotgun and took a shot at the Slaver's head, though he quickly threw himself down, under the table. Jeb grunted as he quickly realised that he wouldn't be able to align his sites onto the Slaver, without putting himself in harm's way.

Jeb growled and hopped the desk, listening out as he heard the Slaver pull out his clip, with a loud click. The Scavenger quickly raised his own shotgun and pulled the trigger, blasting the Slaver's leg into an unrecognisable mess.

"Argh, **fuck!**" He screamed out as he lost half of his shin and a toe, obviously sending him into shock, shivering as his injuries caught up with him.

"Yeah, ain't so good now, is it, asshole!?" Jeb growled, taking another shot at the Slaver's leg, blowing it clean off and sending him into an even further state of shock as his eyes slowly rolled over, into the back of his head.

Gareth, whilst this was going on, looked Alex over, he was bleeding heavily but looked to be still alive, Denis quickly knelt down by their side and drew a few stimpaks.

"Here, this should keep him alive until I get back..." He uttered, glancing over his shoulder.

"What about the shrapnel? Shouldn't we remove that!?" Jeb asked, stepping on over to Denis' side as he looked his fellow Scavenger over.

Denis sighed, hissing as he did so, he **really** didn't have time for this.

"Of course..." He uttered, quickly realising what he was doing. It seemed like such a small gamble, leaving Alex here... but Denis was the only one who could save him right now.

"Jeb?" He said, quickly kneeling down by Alex's side.

"I need you to run into the doctor's office and take whatever you can get your hands on. I need tweezers, amongst other things. Prioritise tools though, I can use Stimpaks as a supplement for anything else."

Jeb nodded and bolted for the doctor's office, whilst Denis looked over to Gareth.

"I need you to pin him down, if they don't have Jet, we won't be able to give him anaesthetic."

Gareth didn't seem to be listening, he just stared at Alex's sleeping form, sighing heavily as he looked up, meeting the Regulator's eyes, that didn't seem remotely fazed by what was happening.

"Denis..." He began, seeming truly disturbed by the outcome here. If anything though, he was more bothered about Denis' reaction. Did he not care on some superficial level? Was this just another death to him?

How much death do you have to see for something like this to be 'run of the mill.' How much death do you have to cause before life becomes so trivial and meaningless, that you'd give it up to hunt down and kill a few scumbags. Was death really so important to Denis that he had to sacrifice living people to get it?

"Is he going to die?"

Denis paused, sighing heavily, he didn't have the heart to lie...

"I don't know..." He admitted, looking up to Gareth, furrowing his brow.

"His chances aren't looking too good, even with immediate medical attention. I'm afraid that moving him will prove risky, so... I don't know how we'll get Doc Church to look at him. By the time Church gets here..." Denis sighed, glancing up to the door.

"You're saying he's screwed, right?" Gareth asked, cutting to the chase, though Denis shook his head, faintly.

"No, he... may have a chance, it'll involve abandoning the mission though."

"You said it yourself man, the mission is to take the tower. We've done that, we don't need to lose anyone."

Denis nodded, looking over to Alex's boot as he collected his thoughts, eventually rising to his feet as Jeb came running back over, carrying a towel and a dozen surgical tools.

"Here, I got your shit. Now hurry the fuck up!" The Scaver growled, dumping it all on the floor, beside Alex's body.

"Good, now I just need you to go out and tell one of the Stahls to get Doc Church. Tell him to come down here with whatever he can carry, trauma kit, jet, we need it all!" The Regulator insisted, kneeling down by Alex's side and grabbing at the tweezers.

"Gareth, hold him down! I'm going to try and get some of the shallow fragments out before the doctor gets here!" Denis snapped, looking down at his patient, with a sympathetic gaze.

"This is going to hurt like hell..."

* * *

Becky watched the faded smoke in the distance, not having a clue what it meant. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? She honestly couldn't say...

She scratched her head as she began to pick up the pace, not really having a clue as to whether or not she should go forward and turn back to inform Hamilton of the new development.

"Becky!" Hamilton snapped, getting her attention and prompting her to look over her shoulder, she almost sighed, thinking that he was checking up on her specifically...

"Oh, hey boss. Didn't see..."

"**Move! **Tower's under attack and I am **not** losing it!" He growled, pushing her along to keep her moving as they continued to jog down the hill. He'd go faster, only he didn't want to trip and fall on the rocky surface and bust his head open, that would be a shitty way to go...

Hamilton approached the hole in the fence and leapt over it, stopping Becky and telling her to go around the other side of the tower, of course, he didn't say a word. The only advantage that he had was the element of surprise...

He drew his Colt 1911 pistol and began to creep around, he wasn't a stealth expert, far from it but he didn't have much of a choice here... Besides, he was quite far away, so it's not like this was going to be difficult.

As he crept around the corner, his eye caught five guards, stood outside the entrance, pacing around. It would seem that they were blocking his people inside, which didn't bother him too much as they could easily escape into the metro.

He slowly raised his firearm, reaching out across the courtyard and taking one of the militiamen into his sites. He slowly wrapped his finger around the trigger as he made his mark and pulled it, shooting the man in the head and sending his limp, lifeless body to the ground.

"Andy!" A woman in a yellow jumpsuit cried, turning to face Hamilton's direction and raising her rifle, clearly shaken up by what she had just witnessed. The other one, young boy, merc outfit, quickly knelt down by the fallen man's side.

"**You fucking piece of shit!" **She cried out as soon as Hamilton ducked down behind cover, prompting her to fire her rifle at the wall near where he hid, served it right for protecting the murderer of her fuck buddy or whoever that guy was...

Becky quickly dashed forward and struck a Militiaman in the back of the knee, before smashing the back of his head with the handle of her large sledgehammer. This prompted the young boy to raise his rifle in her direction, only to receive a steel block to the face, which sent him spinning down to the floor.

The yellow jumpsuit woman quickly turned back to her, prompting Hamilton to leap out from the shadows once more as he saw that a militiawoman was still aiming her rifle at him. He shot at her, piercing her forehead with a .45 round and sending her straight down to the ground before shooting the final Militawoman in the back, causing her to cry out in pain and stumble forward, straight into the wooden handle of Becky's sledge.

She giggled as the woman hit the floor, hopping over to Hamilton with a huge grin on her face.

"Teamwork!" She beamed, stretching out but quickly reducing her victory pose as she saw that Hamilton was now glaring at her.

"C'mon..." He sighed, stepping on over to the front door and popping a fresh clip into his pistol as he did so. He took a deep breath before shoulder barging his way inside, straight into a hail of bullets from Denis' assault rifle.

Becky didn't see this coming, somehow and stood there on the spot as several 5.56 rounds entered her body, causing her to shake violently before being thrown across the courtyard, spinning through the air and landing with a heavy thud.

Hamilton ignored it and took it as an opportunity to tackle Denis to the ground, he tried to put his gun in the Regulator's face but he quickly found it deflected before a kneel hit him between the legs, thankfully missing any vulnerable spots but Hamilton thought it best if he got out of the way. He rolled around and drew his gun, taking aim at Denis who rolled out of the way of each shot before drawing out his python and taking several shots at the Slaver, all of them were off the mark, due to the fact that he had just raised his arm off of the floor and wasn't really aiming properly when he fired, still, Hamilton thought it best to duck down behind a pillar as he reloaded.

Denis slowly staggered to his feet, keeping the pillar in his sites as Hamilton got ready to make his move. He felt like he was in check, constantly looking for some way to get out and survive another turn...

Hamilton eventually ducked down and rolled out from behind cover, finishing with his gun pointing at Denis and firing two or three times, prompting him to throw himself down onto the ground as he fired the last of his .44 rounds at Hamilton. The Slaver quickly marched over to his opponent, taking as many shots as he could, one of them hit Denis' right bicep and prompting him to cry out in pain as he staggered away, quickly throwing himself behind the desk.

The Wastelander cautiously approached the desk, peering around it so that Denis couldn't escape. He only had enough time to reload or heal himself, either way, he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight, right?

He slowly raised his pistol as he paced around the edge of the desk, peering around, with Denis' last known location in his line of sight. He took a deep breath and stepped out, stopping and furrowing his brow as he saw that Denis had slipped away. He quickly looked over his shoulder, only to feel the sharp sting of a blunt instrument, hitting the side of his head and causing him to stagger off before spinning around and taking another shot. Of course, by the time that happened he could feel blood trickling down his head and he realised that he was concussed.

Denis wasted no time and tackled the Wastelander to the floor, sliding across it until they came mere inches away from a pillar. The Regulator wasted no time before slamming the butt of his revolver into Hamilton's face, he tried it again but quickly found that the weapon was deflected by Hamilton's pipboy before a sharp sting entered his side, prompting him to cry out as he rolled off of the Slaver, curling up into a ball by his side.

Hamilton took the bloody knife from his side and rolled over, climbing onto his hands and knees as he crawled on top of Denis and drove his blade down,finding that it stopped with the point mere inches away from the Regulator's face. Denis pulled his own face away as he tried to think of a reversal, he could feel the numbness in his right arm growing stronger as the Stimpak did its work.

He'd try and lift his knee but that could shift the balance, giving Hamilton the advantage. He had an idea, it seemed like suicide but... he was kind of fucked either way, right? Denis slowly lifted his arms, forcing Hamilton's upwards as he lifted his head, he eventually managed to force both arms upwards, breaking out of the hold and biting, straight into the Wastelander's neck. He cried out in pain as Denis pulled out his own knife and shanked Hamilton's hip, prompting him to cry out as he was thrown onto his back.

Denis leapt up on the Wastelander, driving his knife down and quickly finding that he was deflected by Hamilton, who moved his arms to the side before slashing at the Regulator's face with his own blade, leaving a rather nasty scratch across his cheek. Denis retaliated by kneeing his opponent, straight in his recent stab wound, causing him to cry out in pain before Denis drove his knife down, missing his chest and sending it straight into his shoulder.

Hamilton growled in rage as he tried to stab Denis in the neck, though his attack was pretty week, due to him suffering from multiple stab wounds. The Regulator snatched his arm and bit down on Hamilton's fingers, causing him to scream out in pain once more as blood trickled out of them, down Denis chin and neck as he eventually pulled away, ripping his pinkie finger straight from his left hand.

Hamilton shrieked in agony as he dropped his knife, the hand trembled as he could feel himself going into shock. This was all that Denis needed to finish him off, snatching the blade and getting ready to drive it below his ribs.

He thrusted the knife forward, burying it in the Wastelander's stomach and causing him to cry out again. Denis was almost certain that he'd hit something vital but decided to go for another stab, he leaned over and shanked Hamilton a second time before withdrawing the knife and driving it down onto Hamilton's face, at least he would have, if the blade had connected. Instead, Denis went flying back, with a loud 'bang,' he flew across the lobby, rolling over until he fell onto his back, coughing up blood as he felt the sharp stings of numerous pieces of shrapnel working their way into his shoulder and left pectoral muscle...

Clover stepped out of the elevator, running over to Hamilton's side and seeing that mess that he was in. She gasped and knelt down, scooping him up. He weighed a lot but thankfully she could just handle it. She carried him as best she could, over to the escape tunnel as the front doors were kicked open and several Megaton Militiamen burst through. Clover ducked down and ran inside, leaving the Tower behind her as they all began to fuss over Denis' recently shot up body. The last thing she saw was an old black man in Wasteland Doctor Fatigues, rushing over and kneeling down by Denis' side, he placed his ear to the Regulator's chest before starting compression, prompting Clover to sigh with relief, figuring that the fucker was dead...

She slipped away, into the darkness, taking the near dead Hamilton with her.

* * *

Clover managed to find them an old maintenance closet, deep inside the metro tunnel, apparently it hadn't been used in a while as it still had a few supplies, few of them were of any use to her. By now, Hamilton was looking incredibly pale, deathly even.

She shivered a little as she sighed, kneeling down by his side as she took his hat off and gently ran her fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry lover..." She whispered, looking around.

"I did all I could..."

Hamilton began to breathe loudly as his eyes slowly opened, they were heavily bloodshot and struggled to focus on anything as his head rolled from side to side.

"You there?" She whispered, taking hold of his hand and holding it affectionately.

Hamilton continued to breathe, each pained breathe grew more deathly as he felt himself fading away.

"Clove-" He whispered, choking back and coughing a little, quickly getting her attention.

"Yes?" She whispered, leaning forward, she didn't exactly seem incredibly broken up but she was still concerned. With him gone again, she would be alone and she hated that, she hated it more than anything, hated it more than the worst times that came with being a slave.

She didn't want to go back to having nothing...

Hamilton mumbled something incoherent, getting a look of confusion from her as she furrowed her brow and slowly leant over towards him.

"What lover?" She whispered, moving her ear closer to his mouth, listening to his drawn out breaths and hoping to hear the message part from them before he died...

Hamilton drew several more breaths, it was odd as it sounded like he was building up to something. Little did she know, he was... Hamilton quickly raised his arms and snatched Clover around her shoulders and pulled her down to his lips, he bit down into her neck and ripped out her jugular, quickly covering his face in her blood, not even caring that she was now gagging and choking in shock and pain as he went for another bite.

He violently tore her neck apart, giving him to the strength to sit up as he rolled over on top of her and drew her knife. He sliced her stomach open and began to feast on whatever poured out, shoving the organ matter down his own throat, ignoring the fact that she was convulsing and quickly expiring by his side.

He tore off a piece of her soft skin, opening the wound further and allowing him to get at her some more as he continued to gorge on her innards, he didn't even notice her die, it could have been at the start, could have been near the end. It didn't matter to him as she had outlived her purpose...

The Wastelander continued to feast on her corpse, slowly regaining more strength with every bite...


	16. Sunrise

Denis' eyelids slowly lifted as he sighed heavily as the world came back into focus, he was starting to make a habit of this… He knew where he was immediately, he'd recognise that rusty metal ceiling anywhere and the tinny sound of a shitty radio echoing throughout the makeshift hospital…

There was no doubt about it, this was Doc Church's place. Though how he got here from Tenpenny Tower was somewhat of a mystery. He slowly rolled his head over to the right as he examined his surroundings, expecting the good doctor to be sat by his side, ready with a wise crack. To his surprise, he wasn't in the Doctor's company but in Lucy West's, who sat there, scooping up a mouthful of pie. Denis, understandably furrowed his brow, she hadn't done a Bittercup on him had she? Not that he'd complain but he'd rather be conscious if he was going to get some, that way they could both enjoy it.

"Oh!" She gasped, almost hopping to her feet but instead she and her chair moved back an inch or two as she shook out of shock. Though she was somewhat startled by his sudden awakening, she was also quite relieved as her faint smile showed.

"You're awake!"

"Yep…" Denis murmured, with a faint smile, he looked incredibly drained and sickly looking already as he ran his right arm over his eyes. He still felt the pain from his wounds, he felt so weak that even wiping his brow with his arm was taxing. He felt like he had weights, attached to hooks that were coupled to his eyelids. They were heavy, painfully so, burning a little as he fought the urge to close them again.

"I am…"

"Doc… Church said you wouldn't be awake for at least another week." She said, placing the dish to one side. She quickly crossed her right leg over the left one and placed her hands firmly on it, to look a little bit more elegant and attentive to get his attention. Needless to say, it somewhat fell through as Denis never paid much attention to that kidn of effort...

"I… Offered to watch over you and feed you until then, ain't got anythin' else to do, y'know?"

Denis nodded, giving her a fain smile as his arm rolled off of his face, like a dead snake. His beard had been well trimmed, better than he usually did it. How **do** wasteland assholes keep their beards so short? They must be using voodoo or dedicate all of their downtime towards it.

"Thank you…" The Regulator whispered, offering her a smile as he slowly began to pull himself up, wincing as the pain of the wounds surged through his body.

"Woah, no, hey, stop right there!" She insisted, placing both of her hands on his shoulders and practically pinning him down. It didn't take much effort, if he was upright he'd be so easy to push over and it wasn't like he was fighting her anyway as he'd quickly learned the error of his ways.

"You **definitely** aren't in a condition to walk." She warned him as she lay him down, sighing heavily as she took a seat again.

"You look awful Denis, you need to rest."

Denis eventually sighed and gave up completely, she was right… of course. He felt terrible and his body had taken so much damage that if it weren't for Doc Church he would definitely be dead.

"What about… The Tower?" He panted, getting back into a position that didn't make his torso feel like it was being violently ripped apart.

"It's… Empty. Regulators took it after Hardin brought them back. The Brotherhood weren't too happy about it but they got here too late, Sonora, I think her name is? She's been handling things since you were taken into care, the Brotherhood are helping any way they can."

Denis sighed with relief, he owed that boy a drink. Sonora had a strange streak about her, sure but she had good intentions and she wasn't Brotherhood, that was all that Denis honestly gave a shit about. Not that the Brotherhood could do much with that Tower anyway but the less he handed over to them, the better.

"What else has happened?" Denis asked, figuring that couldn't have been all. There weren't many Slavers that went down in that battle, the last thing he remembered was Clover getting away. Hamilton went with her, though it was more than possible that he would have died during the escape. Denis made sure that he would **not** be in a condition to lead anymore raids any time soon.

"Hamilton dead?"

"We… Don't know, we haven't found his body but equally we haven't seen or heard any sign of him. He likely died in the Metro Tunnels, looking at the shape that his body was in." Lucy said, remembering what Church had told her.

"Some of the Slavers were eaten by Feral Ghouls, the one that saved him? They didn't find much of her, she'd been devoured from neck to shin."

Denis cringed, fate would dictate that the survivor of the Paradise Falls Massacre would be killed fighting for the same people again. He felt bad for Clover but knew that this was the path she took, he couldn't save her, not back then, not now…

As if that wasn't enough, Hamilton had not been confirmed dead. This… Wasn't exactly a comforting thought to Denis, not only did he feel a burning desire to kill that man but he also felt that him being alive constantly put the Wasteland at risk. It was possible that he'd find the same grade of treatment that Denis received and if… when that happens, he could come back with a vengeance.

"What about Paradise?" Denis asked, the thought suddenly occurring to him as he looked over to his carer, who picked up her dish again.

"I… Honestly don't know, the Elder said that she'd send some Brotherhood Knights to clear it out but I'm not sure if they did the job or not. I guess only time will tell…"

"They'd… Better." Denis wheezed, rolling over to his left and coughing as he felt the all so familiar pain course through his ribs once more.

"God, just stay still!" Lucy snapped, shoving a spoon full of food into the Regulator's mouth. Feeling like she was his mother or something, if she didn't find it so endearing that he was eager to get back into the fray, she'd be incredibly frustrated right about now.

"You ain't no use to anyone dead…"

Denis refrained from making a smart ass comment about how his organs may be of some value... She was right, he supposed, without him the Wasteland would have to manage itself and that would end poorly for everyone...

He paused for a moment after taking a mouthful, laughing faintly as he stared at the wall.

"What?" Lucy asked, furrowing her brow, looking a little concerned, though this just made him laugh a little more, eventually bursting into a full on giggling fit.

"Was it... something I said?"

"No..." Denis assured her, coming to a stifled chuckle before he eventually stopped altogether.

"It's... Just occurred to me that I ended up in this bed, the last time I was shot... I erm... Think I'm getting too old for this shit." He sighed, with a huge grin, only adding to Lucy's confusion.

"And... How's that funny?" She asked, putting the spoon down, back in the bowl.

"Well, never thought I'd hear myself say that, at least not before I hit thirty." Denis explained, glancing down to the bowl before meeting her eyes. He noticed her blue eyes, they weren't that noticeable, hell, if he was asked by anyone else he would have said that she had brown eyes. They were rather nice, simple, yet once you got a look at them it was difficult to tear your eyes away. They were like a flawed pearl or some other form of worthless pendant piece...

"Well, maybe it's not your age that's the problem..." Lucy said, putting the bowl to one side, with an almost irritated sigh.

"Maybe it's the way that you live your life? Maybe it's your reckless behaviour." Lucy grew louder with every word, it was obvious that her frustrations were building up.

"I mean, what the hell were you thinking, going after Hamilton on your own?"

Denis shrugged, not really seeing the problem.

"I was thinking that maybe I could kill him before he did anymore harm to the world and... as far as I'm concerned, whether I killed him or not, I stopped him."

"You could've gotten yourself killed though! Why didn't you wait for the Brotherhood or your cowboy friends!? You know that Andy got killed, right? Jenny and Leo are heart broken. Was it worth that!?"

"I... Asked Andy to come along, he had a choice, he knew the risks. Don't get me wrong... I didn't want anyone to die but the losses were quite short, it's a war Lucy, people die in wars."

"Oh, everyone except you right? Denis, do you think that makes me or anyone else feel better?

'It's a war, people die.'

It doesn't..."

"I know..." Denis sighed, looking up to the ceiling.

"Andy... Was a volunteer, not a soldier... I..."

"I wasn't talking about Andy, Denis. I was talking about **you**. Believe it or not, people here care about you, you can keep going out and getting yourself hurt or killed. It isn't right on the people who believe in you, like me and Jynx. We need you to keep us alive, not running around out there getting shot at! I know that you like to help the wasteland but... You can do that without throwing yourself into battle every time you heal up, can't you?" Lucy quickly fell silent, realising that she was yelling at the Regulator, who, to be fair, looked half asleep from the fact that he was incredibly weak from his injuries.

"Lucy... I get it, your frustration... But, it's just how I am. I know it sounds like a shitty excuse but it's all I have...

When I was 19, my Dad just... vanished one day. He didn't tell me, he just took off, ran off into the Wasteland. He left the safety of a **vault** to run off out here and threw himself into harm's way and he did that to make Project Purity a reality.

My Dad was thoughtless, cruel in a way. I mean, I love him and I understand why he did what he did but... He made me watch him slowly die in that chamber, a chamber full of lethal radiation with inches of glass between me and him. The worst part is that it was my fight, he died that day and left me with his project and...

I left a bitter person, I didn't understand why my Dad picked the Wasteland over me, why he put me in that Rotunda...

But... When I ended up there, I... Finally understood. That love is... selfish, love for others means that you have put them before others and I can't fault anyone for doing that. But I can't afford to myself. Every bullet that I take could have been someone else's. Every wound inflicted on me could've been inflicted on Hardin or Jynx or someone like that. I have the skill... Or maybe it's just luck but, whatever it is, it keeps me alive and keeps me successful.

I know I hurt people... But I can't afford not to. Every moment I'm not out there, more Raider gangs are forming and sooner or later you get a situation like Hamilton. Without me, it'll just go back to how it was and then all of these people I've grown close to will either be dead or miserable.

I go out, pick up my gun as a... Soldier, in a war against everything in this world that I hate. People can be a part of my life but I can't be a part of their's. Because there isn't another me, I wouldn't want there to be another me.

I'm the Lone Wanderer, Lucy.

That's my calling...

My curse..."

* * *

In the darkness of the old Metro Tunnels echoed several voices, slowly making their way through as their flash-lights flickered throughout the darkness, along the walls and ground. Though these Metro Tunnels were never inhabited, they had lost their purpose centuries ago. They had an eerie feeling to them now, like an ominous presence dwelled in them, keeping mad the creatures that dwelled in the darkness. The ferals and the rodents and the poor bastards that were driven down here from the surface...

The party had been combing the tunnels for some time now, looking for Clover and their leader, though, progress was slow and the hopes of finding them again were growing slimmer by the minute.

"Fuck, man... I think I stepped on a turd!" A Slaver grunted, getting a laugh out of one of his comrades. It didn't take much to anger or amuse these men, making their behaviour unpredictable at times. It took a strong leader to keep things from going Darwin once every few hours.

"S'not funny asshole!" The Slaver growled, quickly casting his torchlight upon the mystery object, oddly enough that didn't really help to identify it.

"We're in a Metro Tunner, dipshit, why would there be a turd down here?" The Slaver at the front asked, rolling his eyes as he slowly walked along, prompting the others to pick up the pace and walk by his side.

"I dunno man, it was squishy! What the fuck else could it be?"

"Well, it ain't Hamilton, so I don't give a fuck! Now **focus** asshole, I want to get out of this shithole..."

They made a turn to their left and came to a maintenance closet, a closet that was open and most disturbingly of all, had a trail of blood leading out of it. This prompted the Slavers to stop, the frontrunner extended his arm to stop the others from passing him.

"Fuckin' hell... Something's down here..." He muttered, taking a step forward and coming to a stop as he examined the blood, slowly following its trail into the door.

He swung around, lifting his shotgun into the room as he stepped inside, panting heavily before wincing and looking away. He was clearly both petrified and disgusted by what he saw, so disgusted that he practically lost control and broke ranks.

"Argh fuck!" He growled, crossing his face as he looked away, staggering out and throwing up on the tracks.

"Oh, now who's the pussy!" The 'turd' Slaver grunted, with an obnoxious laugh, stepping towards the closet, quickly turning several shades of pale before stumbling back himself.

"Fuck, guess we found Clover..." He said, his stomach churned to express his disgust for him, looking back again and seeing what was left of the former slave. All that he could see was her head and scraps of clothing, mixed with giblets, all the way down to her boots. Apart from her head, they were the only two things left intact.

"There's probably ferals down here, if there are then Hamilton's fucked."

"Not necessarily..." The frontrunner murmured, stepping towards something of interest, he cast his light on it, showing that it was a large chunk of meat, followed by various bloody footsteps.

"Something went that way..."

"Yeah, a feral..." The 'turd' Slaver snapped, prompting one of the others to shake their head.

"Nah man, look, they were wearing army boots bro. Ferals don't, right? They don't even wear clothes... Gotta be Hamilton."

"Might... Might be someone else, either way, it's our best bet." The Frontrunner muttered, beginning to wander towards the trail as the fourth Slaver looked Clover's body over, disappointed to find that her weapons and equipment had been taken.

"Man, fuck Hamilton, let's just go home. If he ain't dead, he's just one guy, we don't need him."

"What? You going to boss those assholes at Paradise Falls around? Look, I know that you're probably kind of new to this but I've ran with a crew before. Things can't get much better than they are now and when someone like Hamilton bites the dust? It makes it open season on folks who want to step up and be the new leader.

We need Hamilton, we need him alive and able to tell us what to do, because like it or not, we lost that last battle and we need a fuckin' good strategist to get us through this one."

"Yeah, because the last battle went so well... You said it yourself man, Hamilton lost us the tower."

"Hamilton got us the tower **and** Paradise Falls to begin with. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but he also didn't have fuck all to do with the tower assault, Clover was in charge of that and she paid for it. Hamilton was busy taking the Falls and if he hadn't, we wouldn't have anywhere to fall back on.

So we gotta find him and bring him back with us, because if we don't? We gotta go back, get a new leader and **then** plan our next phase and I doubt that any of you assholes have a plan, am I right?"

There was a pause as the Slavers came to a stop, quickly looking at eachother before falling silent completely.

"Shit..." The 'Turd' Slaver sighed, seeing that the blood trail had come to a stop. It would seem that whatever was bleeding had ceased at this point.

"Well... What now?" One of them asked as the torchlight slowly skimmed across the walls, it was strange, they couldn't hear or see anything. It was unlikely that many ferals could dwell down here as the Slavers took out scores of them, their entrails left stains that not even hours of scrubbing could get rid of. It was unlikely that they would be able to amass their numbers again for a while...

"Wait.." One of the Slavers said, looking over to his right.

"I... I think I see somethin'!"

There was a moment of trepidation as the Slaver's flash-light scanned the nearby wall, where bloody hand-prints could be seen, smeared along its surface. The torchlight followed the smears before eventually falling on a hunched up figure, still and covered in blood, both his face and his clothes were heavily stained as were his arms. It was like he'd shrunk himself and dived into an open wound, hell, there was more blood than person.

The Slavers rushed over to the figure, casting their light on his face to reveal that it was indeed Hamilton, he winced before raising his arm to shield himself, waving it towards them as he gave off a faint snarl, prompting the Slavers to step back, though what they had to be afraid of remained uncertain.

"Fuck... Hamilton, calm down asshole, it's us!"

"Fuck man, he's covered in blood! That **can't** be his own!"

"Who fuckin' cares, let's just bag 'im and run!"

Hamilton's senses were overwhelmed by the lights and the noises, knowing that he was safe, the adrenaline began to fade and he slowly lost consciousness, his head lulled back and landed on the floor with a faint thud. The Slaver passed out before his comrades, having exhausted himself to stay alive...

* * *

Hamilton's eyes shot open as he came to, it felt like he had blinked, though due to the blinding light that surrounded him, he knew that he had been out for some time now. The Wastelander was in a tent of some sort, before him stood a slaver with a Sawed off shotgun, watching over him. Well, at first it looked that way but as Hamilton looked over to his left, he noticed that Doctor Cushing knelt by his side, with an explosive collar tightly clipped around her neck.

She looked up and met his gaze, though her eyes were steely and emotionless, a lot more so than last time they spoke, she showed some surprise at the fact that his eyes were open. It was this that lead him to believe that he hadn't been out of it for long...

"You're... Awake..." Cushing muttered, expressing her surprise as she shuffled back and allowed him to sit up, rubbing his arms and twist his body around. It still ached furiously but at least he didn't feel like he was going to keel over any time soon...

"I can see that..." Hamilton murmured, looking up to his guard, who looked just as surprised as the doctor. He was in a pretty bad shape, multiple stab wounds and he lost a finger but none of it seemed to phase him in any way...

Hamilton's regenerative abilities were always freakish by anyone's standards but this was somewhat of a record. Still, he didn't have time to gorp at his miraculous recovery, he had a camp to run.

The Slaver rolled over, out of the tent and stepped outside, where he was immediately hit by the white of the morning sun, it engulfed his vision, creating a transition from tent to outside before his very eyes as he saw his people rushing about and stockpiling various arms. He stepped out and looked around, furrowing his brow in confusion, clearly they would have had to take the initiative but this looked like they were preparing for war. Of course, for all he knew, war was coming this way.

As he walked through the camp he noticed that the Slavers were looking at him, somewhat gormlessly, it was obvious that his sudden rising had an effect on everyone he passed, pretty much showing that they weren't very optimistic about his chances.

Hamilton didn't care though and simply walked over to what used to be Eulogy's pad, the guards didn't bother to challenge him for various reasons, most importantly of all, they didn't want to get capped for pissing him off. Hamilton's foot came down on the door pretty hard, bursting it open and allowing him entry. He immediately stepped into a heated argument, not really giving a shit as to what was going on, he already knew what his next move would be.

"Logan, I hate to break it to you but the Brotherhood's scouts have been seen combing the hills. They're watching us, man and we don't have weapons that can take 'em out!

We need to abandon this place if we're goin' to survive."

"Fuck that, what'll Hamilton say if he wakes up to find out that we lost the only bit of territory we have?" 'Logan snapped, it would seem that he had taken charge, whoever he was.

"Hamilton would be perfectly happy with it, if it meant that we didn't die fighting a hole in the ground." Hamilton interjected, cutting the debate short as the two of them jumped out of their skin and turned to face him. Upon seeing his face, Hamilton saw that Logan was quite old and experienced looking, he wore shades and a bandanna that wrapped over his long hair that went down to his neck. He was quite dark skinned and wore a Merc Cruiser outfit, a common outfit for people in his position.

"Fuck man, we thought you were dead." He gasped, folding his arms as he furrowed his brow, prompting the other Slaver to slowly back out of the room and leave the two alpha males to have their moment together.

"'Thought' or 'hoped?'" Hamilton asked, fodling his arms and glaring at Logan, suspiciously.

"What? Nah, man, it ain't like that. Look, someone needed to step up and take charge, y'know? With Clover dead and that? I had... experience, so I took the torch, this ain't no take over. As far as I'm concerned, this is the worst time to be in charge of this gang..."

"Why, what's going on?" Hamilton asked, he heard mention of Brotherhood scouts but didn't want to work off of assumptions alone, he wanted everything from the ground up.

"Well... Brotherhood's been sending scouts for a week now." Logan explained, gently scratching his head as he looked away.

"They just... Watch us, lookin' for weaknesses in our defences and shit. Who the fuck knows why they ain't attacked yet, but this place is... Well, we've stocked up, best we can. Killed every nearby raider camp we could and took their shit but it ain't gonna be enough to hold off the Brotherhood. We'd like to send someone to Megaton or Rivet City to get supplies but how're we gonna do that without them getting shot by Scouts?

So we've been waitin', just seein' if the Brotherhood attack and tryin' to set up as many traps as possible as we do so. But... I'm gonna lie, if those Brotherhood boys come for us? We're fucked..."

"Which is why we should leave... Think about, this place, it was set up by a different generation, a generation who could only work with this shit hole but there are better places, fortified places around the Wasteland." Hamilton pointed out, pausing to think on it a little more.

"Places like Megaton..."

Logan paused, looking both nervous and a little angered by that suggestion as he tried to process it.

"You ain't... Seriously suggestin' that we take Megaton..."

"Yes, I am..." Hamilton interrupted, stepping forward and glancing around the room.

"Look, think about it. One entrance, no guards worth talking about, Denis lives there, if he's still alive? We'll be hitting him where he lives and most importantly? We take that place, we can defend it a **lot** better than they are. We can turn it into a fortress, a city that'll rival the Pit! All we need? Is an army and a fuck ton of guns... Looks like we have that." Hamilton stopped as Logan ummed and err'd inside his head, prompting the Slaver to step forward.

"Look, you said it yourself, we're fucked if we stay here, we're fucked if we go out on the road, we're too big a force to not get found by the Brotherhood. If we disappear? We can use the confusion to buy ourself a little more time and get those weapons from Rivet City. We get more weapons and we'll have ourselves a force to be reckoned with..."

"Hmm... I like it, it's not... terrible." Logan murmured, pausing to think on it a little. Hamilton did make a convincing case, they were fucked here and taking Megaton and using it as a fort? **That** would give them the leverage that they needed. They'd rival the Brotherhood's Citadel with that place and make the Slave Trade a **lot** more appealing...

"But they ain't just going to let us in, how do we get past the gate?"

"Don't worry..." Hamilton said, pausing as he glanced over to a nearby table, stocked high with Slave collars, a small smile crept across his face as an idea clicked into his head.

"I have an idea..."

* * *

Hamilton and his group vanished after that day, the Brotherhood clearly grew impatient as they saw no activity inside the walls. They stormed the front door and besides a cleverly placed and... rather terrible trap that resulted in some knights getting killed by collapsing spikes, they found nothing.

Paradise Falls had been abandoned, its residents had vanished, becoming a ghost town...

The Brotherhood used it as an outpost, mostly so that the Slavers couldn't come back, though Sarah Lyons had the feeling that they wouldn't really want to. As far as she was aware, they had given it up, though it remained uncertain if this was a tactical move to continue their campaign or if they had given up altogether. Being a soldier of experience, she knew that it had to be the former, it happened with the Enclave after all and in many ways Hamilton was even worse than they were. All he needed was some better gear, maybe more ground to call his own and more people and he'd be an even bigger threat to the civilian populace than the Enclave ever were.

Megaton remained blissfully unaware that Hamilton was plotting to take them, few people, if any had considered it to be a possibility as it seemed like suicide. Of course, many would consider Denis' daily outings 'suicide' and he always came back but no one could have predicted the assault that Hamilton had, lying in wait for them.

Stockholm, the sniper, was on watch. He scanned the horizon with his eyes, looking for blips that were either friendly or hostile. There were two types of blips, caravans and ants... Sometimes there was the occasional traveller as well but today, he encountered a new type. He looked over at the distance and saw a small cluster of people rushing towards the city, he furrowed his brow, looking incredibly confused as he raised his scope up to his eye, seeing a group of, what looked like, refugees running towards the city.

They were wrapped up in rags and wore head scarves, covered in dirt. They looked exhausted, terrible even from the harsh exposure of the Wasteland. Stockholm wasted no time before looking back over his shoulder, calling down to a Settler down below.

"Hey, get Jericho, he'll wanna see this!" Stockholm called out before turning his attention back to the refugees. The Settler nodded and ran off down the approach, looking for the ex-raider, who was often at Moriarity's or in the armoury.

As the Settler ran off, Billy Creel ran up to the gate, readying his scoped magnum as he opened the gate, seeing that the refugees immediately dashed inside it. They seemed panicked, constantly babbling as they grabbed hold of him by his jacket, yelling and screaming in his face as tears rolled out of their eyes. Billy couldn't even get the gist of what they were saying as he took hold of nearest one's shoulders.

"Alright, all of you, it's okay! You're safe! Jesus, one at a time!" He snapped, pausing as he began to hear bleeping, causing him to freeze a little on the spot. He quickly reached up for the nearest refugee's headscarf and pulled it down, revealing that they were rigged with an explosive collar, that was bleeping frantically.

"Oh shi-" Billy's final words were cut short as the bomb collars went off. It was clear that they were modified as they sent what remained of Billy's body flying back through the gates and bouncing down the approach, leaving a pile of refugee giblets by the gate and a black scorch mark where they once stood.

"Now!"

Hamilton's group ran around the sides of the city and broke through the gates, open firing on any settlers that got in their way. Round after round was fired in every conceivable direction as 5.56 rounds, 308 round, lasers, plasma and grenades were fired all around the gate to clear it as the invaders stormed through.

Hamilton himself was the last to emerge, though his steps were a lot heavy than before as he had adorned himself in a full suit of Tesla Black Devil Power Armour. It was quite dirty from where he had dug it up but he liked that, it seemed almost symbolic as he climbed out of the grave that the rest of the world had dug for him and now he was coming back to take said world for his own. His eyes lit up to illuminate the path ahead and he began to march forward, readying his Chinese Assault Rifle...

* * *

Denis' eyes shot open as he heard the explosion, both he and Lucy looked over to the door as gunfire erupted in the distance. Needless to say, Lucy was somewhat frightened by it, prompting her to reach for Denis' Python, which she swiftly lifted up towards the door and kept aim at.

"Make sure you check who it is before pulling the trigger..." Denis wheezed, mere seconds before the door burst open and a shotgun blast flew across the room, redecorating the walls with various shrapnel holes. Lucy dodged them all by throwing herself down onto the ground but ended up curling up into a ball, clutching Denis' gun.

"Lucy! Give me the gun!" Denis snaped, prompting her to throw it up into the air and land by the sie of Denis' hand as she heard the click of the Slaver's shotgun as he pulled the pump back and readied another round. Fortunately for the both of them, this was as far as he got before Denis put a .44 round into his chest, sending him flying back down to the ground, with a heavy thud.

Denis wasted no time as he threw his legs out of bed, he cried out in pain, growling as he clutched his torso and slowly pulled himself up to his feet, panting heavily.

"Denis, what the...?"

"Stay here!" Denis wheezed, holding up his hand as he checked his stock before snapping his revolver shut and stumbling out into the hallway, opening up the supply closet and pulling out his coat, throwing it over himself as he grabbed his other weapons.

"I'm going to go out and find out what's going on and Doc Church will need you here to deal with the sick and injured."

"Like you?" Lucy asked, stepping forward.

"Jesus Denis, you look like you're going to keel over!" She insisted, standing in his way, looking somewhat worried on his behalf but the Regulator simply shrugged it off with a smile, even though he felt like he could collapse at any moment.

"I am but don't worry about it, I can take care of it, I just need to get back to my house." He said, hurriedly as he tried to step past her but she got in his way again.

"Wait!" She snapped, sounding more exasperated than anything, thought after thought went through her head, she or he or... anyone here could die. She only had one chance now, so many options, so much potential for regret. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, deeply kissing Denis on the lips, his murmured protests were quickly silenced as his arms gently wrapped around her back, taking it a bit further as he began to kiss her back.

However, Denis quickly remembered where he was and he broke away, giving her a smile as he caught his breath and did his best to hold her back from kissing him again.

"Thank you..." He whispered, with a faint laugh. He gently patted her on the shoulder before stepping past and walking out the door. Lucy watched him until he vanished, the door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone.

She sighed heavily and scooped up the dead Slaver's shotgun, taking a seat on the bed with it lay across her lap. She took several deep breaths, ready to take down any more hostiles that came through that door, praying that Denis would make it through this.


End file.
